A Threat on the Black Queen
by mlr96
Summary: I had it all. The apple-pie life with the husband, child, the perfect job and white picket fence. But you don't get that when you're a Winchester. I spent the past year watching over Dean. Now, trouble strikes close to home and I have to leave. Again. Part 3/4 on my Chess series. Will contain Spoilers for Supernatural and Criminal Minds seasons 6-8. Rated for dark themes. ON HIATUS
1. Go Back to the Start

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or Criminal Minds.**

* * *

 **"I don't know why I felt the need  
To drag it out for all these years.  
All the pain I caused you,  
The constant flow of all the tears."  
Lily Allen, ****_Go Back to the Start._**

When I was sixteen, I went on my first hunt.

It wasn't anything planned. I didn't train especially for it, except from the basic defense knowledge of hunting John and Bobby made sure I would know. But it all started when Dean and Sam stopped by Bobby's place.

"Sammy!" I called happily when I saw the black car parking and my brothers exiting it. "Dean!"

"Diana!" Sam called, running towards me and jumping into my arms.

I lifted him into my hug and spun him around, enjoying his laughter. He was already twelve years old and it was significantly harder to do it than the last time I saw him, but the look of pure joy on his face as I put him down was worth the extra effort.

I looked up from him to see Dean casually leaning on the Impala and smiling at the sight of the two of us. I walked towards him and he pulled me to a hug so tight one would have thought he was certain I would disappear the moment he let go.

"I missed you," he whispered into my ear.

"I missed you, too," I told him.

After what felt like a lifetime, we reluctantly broke apart.

"I've got so much to tell you two," I said excitedly. "We missed each other's birthdays – you wouldn't believe what Bobby promised me and I can't wait to hear everything you've been through –"

"Dee," Dean cut me off. "That's not why we're here."

The dark look on his face made me stop in my tracks.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Dad sent us here," Dean told me. "Well, not _here_. He sent us on a hunt."

"'Us' being…?"

"Sammy and I."

My hand flew to my mouth, covering it with shock. "But…" I muttered. "But… But he's only twelve!"

"I know," Dean said darkly. "That's why we're here. Dad doesn't know," he explained, "but I couldn't let him join yet. I'm leaving him here and going."

"Alone?" I asked. "You can't!"

"I don't really have much choice, do I?" he questioned.

"You do now," I said determinedly.

"Dee…" he started.

"Don't," I said harshly. "I'm not asking for permission. I'm coming."

It was a simple case of salt-and-burn. It took us a day to get to the small town, and another two days to investigate and find the remains. We headed back straight away, arriving the Salvage Yard around noon.

We didn't expect John to be there, too.

"I told you to take _Sammy_ on a hunt," he told Dean. "Not _Diana_. Do you have problems hearing?"

"No, sir," Dean said.

"Then I don't understand why you overlooked a direct order!"

"I'm sorry," Dean mumbled. "It was unjustified."

"Like hell it was!" I called, annoyed. "It was completely justified! Sammy's only twelve! There's no reason he'd go on hunts!"

"I was talking to Dean," John said. "I'll deal with you later."

"You weren't talking to Dean," I huffed. "Talking is when the other side gets a say, as well."

"I told you to be quiet," John said.

"And I chose to ignore," I retorted. "Why are you here, anyway? If you didn't have anything better to do, why didn't you just joined Dean on the hunt and all of this mess wouldn't have happened?"

"I planned to spend some time with you, since I didn't see you for months!" John called. "I missed your birthday and I thought maybe after Sam and Dean came back we could celebrate it for the both of you but I guess that won't happen since you disobeyed me!"

"We're not soldiers, _John_!"

The kitchen at Bobby's house fell into a silence so thick I could hear Bobby and Sam's breathing as they eavesdropped from the other side of the door. The look on John's face was heartbroken and Dean looked at me with disbelief at what I just did.

"Dee…" he said carefully but I cut him off.

"Don't," I said. "He lost every right for me to call him 'Dad' when he decided to leave me here alone for weeks – months at a time."

"I am still your father," John said.

"Only by blood," I told him. "And if I could've changed that, trust me, I would."

There was silence again until John spoke.

"Dean, pack your things and get Sammy," he said. "We should get going."

That day was the beginning of the rift between my father and me. The rift that would eventually lead to my departure, two years later.

I loved hunting – the adrenaline running through my veins and the satisfaction you get even at the smallest cases, knowing you saved people. But hunting has its toll. It has a price.

Sometimes, it's the thought of the people you couldn't save – a civilian who was turned into a vampire before you could reach him or a spirit's victim who would have lived if you figured it out a day sooner. Usually, it's easy to push it to the back of your mind, telling yourself you did everything you could and moving on.

But sometimes, you can't.

I barely managed to drive back to the small cabin I lived in, right outside the town Dean lived in. I spent the last year here, only leaving to deal with other cases when I knew it had to be done by me – cases of dead Unsubs returning as vengeful spirits.

I just came back from a case like that. A case that ended up being terribly horrible.

Somehow, I managed to get hold of my phone and called the number that was saved on speed dial more as a habit than as anything else. I didn't call it since last year and I changed my number more than once during that time, but he picked up immediately.

"Reid."

"Spence," I muttered, no coherent thought managing to stay in my head other than the fact I desperately need help.

"Chessi?" he asked, a hopeful and worried tone to his voice. "Are you okay?"

"No," I replied. "I… case… bad, bad case…"

"What happened?" he questioned.

"Need help," was all I said. "Penny… to track…"

He kept talking at the other end of the line but dark blurred already started filling my sight and I fell to the floor.

"Don't tell the others," I said right before I passed out.

* * *

When I woke up, I was laying on the small bed in the cabin I started to see as my home for the past year. My head hurt and my throat was sore, and it took me a couple of moments to understand how I arrived here until I remembered.

And just as I did, Reid spoke.

"What the hell were you thinking to yourself?" he questioned. "You disappeared for a _year_. A year, Diana! And then you call me in the middle of the night – while I'm on a case, mind you – and I need to tell Garcia to track your number and then find a way to get here as soon as I can because _god knows_ what you've gotten yourself into. And after all the mess and the lying and the hiding, I find you unconscious on the floor, looking like you've had a car crash and almost overdosing? Explain."

"I was on a case," I said. "I was stupid the past year, been going on cases alone. I thought it was just a simple salt-and-burn."

"What was it?" Spencer asked.

"A salt-and-burn," I said. "But it wasn't simple. The… the ghost… it attacked with… and I… I should've known."

"You know," Reid said, looking as if he would have been amused if he wasn't so angry at me, "using full sentences can help."

"Tobias Hankle," I muttered. "The ghost – it was Tobias Hankle. Charles was killing people. He… he drugged me and I had to run. Barely managed to finish him off."

Reid sighed, annoyed. "How many times will he come to hunt you?" he asked.

"Too many," I muttered. "Between him, his ghost and Raphael… it's the fourth time I meet him."

"Fourth?" Reid asked, confused. "When was the fourth?"

"The night Jenna and Daniel died," I replied, and a sad look crossed Reid's face. I was confused for a moment until I noticed how broken my voice sounded as I spoke.

"It still doesn't justify your actions," he said. "You know how we were during the months you were missing – and I know that it wasn't on purpose but this time _was_."

"I needed a break," I said. "And I had to protect Dean."

"What does Dean have to do with you being here?" Reid asked.

"The town, not far from here, is where he lives right now," I explained. "He's there with Lisa and her son. I had to protect him, to make sure he wouldn't get hurt." A concerning thought crossed my mind. "How long was I out?" I asked.

"Three days," Spencer said. "That's what I get for coming to find you – three days of sitting here, not even knowing if you were going to make it."

"I'll always make it, Spence," I smiled. "You won't get rid of me that quickly."

"I don't need to get rid of you, you're doing that to yourself!" he called. "You keep lying, keeping secrets. Every time I think I've got it, it just gets worse."

"What do you want me to say?" I asked.

"I want you to tell me why you kept hiding things away from me after you told me you grew up as a hunter!" he said. "Why did you lie? You kept telling me I'm your best friend, but you didn't tell me anything about you!"

"You want me to tell you about me?" I asked. "You want to know everything I didn't tell you after you found out I was a hunter? Fine!" I called angrily. "I have a Guardian Angel. His name is Castiel and I _fell in love with him_. If that wasn't enough, I cheated with him on Daniel and then he got me friggin' pregnant!"

"Chessi –"

"You wanted to know!" I nearly screamed. "After he got me pregnant, I told him to get the hell away from me and then he died. I resurrected him – found out I have powers along the way – and started preparing because the _Apocalypse_ was happening! I was thrown five years into an Apocalyptic future, thrown back, trapped in TV Land, got into labors, travelled twenty years into the past and got stuck in an alternative universe where I was never even born!"

"Why didn't you tell me all of that?" he asked.

"Because there's more!" I told him, tears in my eyes. "Because when I finally find my way back I'm at my house, Daniel is possessed, there's a huge battle and Raphael kills both him and Jenna. And _me_. Then, Satan brings me back, kidnaps me, and tries to start the battle of Armageddon before my eyes, when my baby brother and half-brother are the vessels. Cas died, _again_ , and so did Bobby and nearly Dean. And after all that, I have no choice other than to _throw my baby brother into the cage_!"

"And then you came back only to leave again!" he called. "Why did you even bother coming back?"

"Because of the letter," I said, crying. "I had to give you the letter. I had to… to explain. As much as I can. I couldn't just leave you in the dark."

"But you did," Spencer said, hurt finally surfacing above his anger. "Everything I found out I knew only because of Chuck's unpublished editions. _You_ didn't tell me anything. You could have died during this year, Diana. You could have _died_ , and I wouldn't even know."

"I would have called you if anything serious happened," I said. "I did call you."

"When you were half-dead," Spencer said. "And I bet that's not the first time something like that happened this year and you didn't call me before. So why did you bother this time?"

"Because of the Dilaudid," I said honestly. "It was in the air, and I breathed it, and I needed you. You're the only one who understands."

Another sigh escaped Spencer's lips and I started getting the feeling it wasn't voluntarily.

"I saw alcohol here," he finally said.

"I only use it when I'm wounded and Cas is busy," I said.

"And how often does that happen?" he questioned.

"Sometimes," I said. "I don't always work alone. I found some… long-distance relatives and did a couple of jobs with them."

"And do you trust them?" he asked.

"With my life? Yes," I said. "But not with my secrets."

Finally, a smile formed on Reid's lips. "You're an odd one, Diana Chess," he said, leaving me to fall asleep once again.

* * *

I woke up when a knock was heard on the outside door of the cabin. It had the main room, in which were three doors – bathroom, bedroom and the main door, leading outside.

I got up from the bed, ignoring the pains, and silently marked for Spencer to go to the room I was in just moments ago. He silently obeyed and closed his door just as I opened the front one.

"Diana," the man who stood at the doorway greeted emotionlessly.

He was a bold man with average weight and height, though he had a fair amount of muscles, hidden under his shirt and a slight fat layer. His bold head was slightly sweaty, and if one knew where to look, they could see his tense muscles.

I knew where to look.

"Samuel," I greeted back, just as coldly. "Do you need my help on a case?"

"I'd have called if I had," he replied.

"So what are you doing here?" I questioned. "I told you to stay back. You know this area is under my protection."

"Doing a shitty job at it," he said, and for the slightest moment, his eyes darted towards the room Spencer was at.

 _He must've seen the car,_ I realized.

"Let's take this outside," I said and he nodded. Once we were out, I looked at him again. "What happened?" I asked.

"Vengeful djinns."

I looked at him for a moment, struck with shock. "I'm sorry," I said, "did you just say vengeful _djinns_?"

"They're after revenge," he explained. "And, because someone has gotten sloppy, they reached Dean."

"No," I mumbled with fear. "But I was just…" Then, it hit me.

I was out on the Hankle ghost case for two days, and then I was unconscious for three more. Five days without anybody watching over Dean – I messed up.

"D'you at least have a reason?"

I looked at Samuel. If anybody were looking at us, he would have thought it was a conversation between a father and his daughter, both because of the age difference and the way he was talking to me. Besides, the fact that he was my grandfather and that I looked just like my mom also affected our relationship.

There wasn't much love there, as every look at me reminded him just what he had lost.

"I was two days away on a ghost hunt," I said.

"Why didn't you just call another hunter?" he asked.

"I'd never give a regular hunter to hunt a dead Unsub," I said. "I caught them once, I can catch them again. Besides, between my connections and Dave's, there aren't many of those."

His mouth became a thin line as I mentioned Rossi's name, almost as if I said a foul word. Almost, because we both knew he couldn't care less if I was using bad language.

"This isn't the work of two days," he said. "You had to be off for at least four for something like this to happen."

"It was a hard case," I said. "The ghost used a drug to kill the victims and I nearly overdosed."

For the first time, a shadow of real concern crossed Samuel's face. "You're taking too many chances with all these solo hunts," he said.

"Do you tell the boys they're taking too many chances on solo hunts, too?" I asked.

"The boys work alone maybe once every couple of months," he retorted. "You work with _backup_ maybe once every couple of months."

"I do well alone," I said. Then, with a determined attitude to change the subject of the conversation, "So what's going on with Dean?"

"Sam found him," Samuel said.

"Sam?" I asked. "You mean the creature-Sam?"

"He's not a creature," Samuel sighed as if he was repeating an old argument. We both were. "We checked. Not a Demon, a shifter, a vamp, a werewolf –"

"Not Sam, either," I said. "I know my brother."

"You should really get the sister-of-the-year pin for your scouts," Samuel muttered.

"For this year, I just might," I replied. "So Dean knows Sam's back. Am I right to assume he's gonna go back to hunting?"

"Most likely," Samuel said. "But I could have told you all of that over the phone. Or, better, sent someone else to talk to you."

"What is it, then?"

"I found a case close to your home," he said. "Demons and possibly Angels interfering."

"How close to home?" I asked.

The grim expression on his face told me all I needed to know.

* * *

Reid and I headed back the next morning. He kept asking me questions about the man who came to visit and I kept avoiding answering, using "Another hunter" whenever he pushed. I also didn't tell him what made me decide to come back to Virginia, but I did inform him I don't know if I would be back on the team.

I knew that, eventually, I would, but Hotch must be pissed at me, as well as Rossi, and I didn't think going back to the team wouldn't be easy. Besides, I needed time to sort myself first.

During the past year, I didn't touch any of my money. It was too easy to trace – approximately ten seconds for Garcia – and I wanted to stay hidden. Instead, I hustled pool and pickpocketed people on the street to pay for my food and occasional alcohol.

That meant that all of the money I had before I disappeared, both Daniel's and my own, was now available for me to use.

My first stop in Virginia was my old landlord at the apartment I stayed at before I married Daniel and moved to my own house. He was nice as always and agreed to resume our old contract starting the first of the next month, which was two days ahead.

Then, I drove to a motel and paid for two days in advance, using legit money for the first time in too long. I threw my bag on the bed and a silvery knife peeked out from it. Intentionally ignoring it, I took a shower and then read the file Samuel gave me about the case I was handling.

Around eleven pm, I finished the file and decided to drop for a visit at an old friend's house.

As I approached the door, I could get the feeling that something was wrong. I neared it carefully before reaching out a hand and knocking. There was the unmistakable sound of a gun being loaded and I sighed.

"You know that the things that are after you won't react to a normal gun, right?" I called through the door.

It flung open almost immediately and the figure on the other side of it looked at me with shock.

"Chessi?" she asked.

"The one and only," I said, walking into the apartment and looking around. "Nice place," I commented. "Kinda empty."

"I redecorated recently," she replied coldly. "What are you doing here? You were gone for a year."

"And now I'm back," I said. "There were some… new developments."

"What kind of new developments?" she asked.

"You already know," I replied. "Selling your soul for a Demon Deal? What were you thinking?"

"That it was worth it."

"That means you've never been to Hell," I said coldly.

"And you have?" she questioned.

"I reached about as close to it as possible," I said. "And do you know what it's like? Every moment of every second, you are in agonizing pain. You're being tortured in ways you didn't even know were possible, muscles and bones torn apart… no matter how bad you think it is, it's worse." I finished, locking eyes with her.

"I had my own reasons," she said through gritted teeth.

"I know you did," I said. "They were noble, selfless ones, too. And that is why I'm going to help you."

"Help me?" she laughed bitterly. "Nobody can help me now. The only question is who would reach me first – Hellhounds or Ian Doyle."

The marks on Emily's face were never as noticeable as they were that moment. You could have seen how all the years of working undercover and later at the BAU affected her, no matter how much she tried to hide it.

"Prentiss," I said slowly, "you sold your soul to save the life of the son of the terrorist you put in jail."

"Nobody downstairs cares about that," she retorted.

"But I do," I said. "And I have contacts both downstairs, upstairs and here."

She frowned in confusion. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"I need you to tell me everything you can about the Demon you made the deal with. That way, we can go after your contract, and once we have the contract, we can work on making your soul yours again."

"It's not gonna work," she said.

"Couldn't hurt trying, though," I said. "We've got three months for that."

"He was kind of short," Emily said. "Chubby, with a perfectly tailored suit. British accent. I think he told me his name… Rowdy? Rowley? Something like that."

My eyes widened in shock. " _Crowley_?" I asked.

"Yeah," Prentiss said, rubbing circles on her temples. "What does that means?"

"It means that it could work entirely in our favor just as much as it could work entirely against it," I said. "But if none of us would do anything stupid, we could fix it within a month, maybe two. And then… we move on to deal with Doyle."

* * *

 **A/N:** **I was really sure yesterday's Saturday! It's just that where I live, Sunday's a weekday, and I had it off yesterday so my entire week messed itself up...**

 **Anyways... that was the first chapter of "A Threat on the Black Queen", third part of my Chess series! I need to warn you in advance, I will stop updating regularly on Wednesdays because I'm starting an exam period that will end at July, so I won't have much time. However, if I _do_ have time and the next Sunday's chapter, I'll give you a treat from here and there.  
**

 **So tell me what you think about it, Reviews are always welcomed, and thank you for sticking with me :)**


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**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or Criminal minds.**

* * *

 **"There are two types of encryption:  
One that will prevent your sister from reading your diary,  
And one that will prevent your government."  
Bruce Schneier**

A year ago:

 _"You need to stop."_

 _The voice made me jump as I entered the small cabin I started using as my home about three weeks ago. Before I knew what was even happening, the Angel Blade was in my hand, not entirely cleared of the blood that dried on it just a couple of hours earlier._

 _"Cas!" I called once my sight adjusted enough to see who was sitting at the small kitchen table. "You can't do that! I almost hurt you."_

 _"You need to stop," he repeated._

 _"Stop what?" I asked, though I knew exactly what he was talking about._

 _"You are killing angels," he said, standing up and looking at me. "You need to stop."_

 _"I only kill those who deserve it," I shrugged._

 _"Diana, we are at_ war _and you are killing angels," he told me._

 _"Fine," I sighed. "Tell me which angels are on Raphael's side and I will only kill them."_

 _"You can't," he insisted. "You need to stop killing angels at all."_

 _"Why?" I asked._

 _"You are drawing attention to yourself," he said._

 _I looked at him for a couple of moments silently. "Your point being…?"_

 _"What do you think will happen?" he asked. "What do you think Raphael will do once he finds out there is a human – even if the Child of Creation – killing his forces? He will come after you."_

 _"Good," I said simply. "I'd enjoy killing that bastard."_

 _"Do not underestimate him," Castiel said. "Raphael is very powerful."_

 _"So I'll go down fighting."_

 _Cas grabbed my arms and shook me. "What is wrong with you?" he asked, almost desperately. "Don't you care about your life? Do you_ want _to die?"_

 _"On certain days, yes," I replied, entirely serious. "Why would I care about my life? Nobody else does."_

 _"I do!" Cas called, letting go of me and taking a step backwards. "I care," he almost whispered._

 _"Do you?" I asked. "Is that the reason this is the only real conversation we had since Sam made that leap into the cage?"_

 _"Even if you don't want to believe it, it is_ _true."_

 _"That's the problem," I said coldly. "What happens when Raphael realizes that I'm a weakness for you? He_ will _use me. They_ will _get to me eventually. So I will take down as many of them as I can until that happens."_

 _"Diana –"_

 _"No! They killed my daughter!" I put a shaking hand on his chest, hoping he could understand. "They killed_ our _daughter."_

 _"So are you planning to kill every angel and demon that was there that night?" Cas asked._

 _"You don't understand." I shook my head. "I don't just want Raphael dead. I want his ugly face on a frickin' platter."_

 _Sighing, Castiel pulled me into a hug, letting me cry on his shoulder before pulling my head to look at him without backing away. He wiped my tears and just looked at me for a couple of seconds before speaking again._

 _"I cannot let you do this," he said. "I need to protect you. You are too important to me – I_ can't _let you die."_

 _"There is no way to protect me, Cas," I whispered. "We learned that the hard way."_

 _"What if there is?"_

 _I looked up at him with surprise. "What if there is some magical way to let you know whenever I'm hurt – one you simply decided not to use before?"_

 _"It's very… invasive, for the lack of a better word," he said. "And very much unorthodox."_

 _"What is it?" I asked, wary but also intrigued._

 _"It is usually done as a way for two angels to create an eternal bond with each other," Cas explained. "One of them… inserts a part of their Grace into the other's and it protects them both."_

 _"Wait," I said, cutting him off. "Is this… Angel sex?"_

 _Castiel sighed. "It's by far gentler and by far less barbaric."_

 _"So did you not like it when we had sex?" I asked, smiling at the way a blush rose to his face. "Anyway, what do you mean by unorthodox?"_

 _"Doing it with a human," Cas said. "It had only been done once, as far as I know."_

 _I looked at him with disbelieve. "You want to… You want to_ insert _a part of your Grace into me?"_

 _"Into your soul, yes," he clarified. "That way, my Grace will protect you. It will not stop harm from coming to you altogether, but it can let me know so I can help you."_

 _"You will do that, for me?" I asked. "You will give up a part of your Grace to keep me safe?"_

 _He pulled me into a kiss that passed along all the emotion he didn't know how to transform into words, not used to having to explain himself to anybody before meeting me and my brothers. It was only then that I understood how much we changed him – that the angel kissing me now isn't the soldier that arrived at my house in the middle of the night two years earlier._

 _When we finally broke apart, both of us were breathing heavily, our cheeks flushed._

 _"I will do anything for you," he said._

 _And I knew I can believe him._

* * *

Emily started off very hostile, wanting to know more about things she only heard rumors of earlier.

"So what do you mean with having connections downstairs, upstairs and here?" she asked.

"I spent the last year hunting," I told her, "hence the connections here. There are also a couple of Demons I'm hunting that would be more than happy to help me if I promised not to come after them."

"Come after them?" Emily asked.

"There are enough things on my black list to keep me occupied for another year, at least," I said. "So far, the only way to get off the list was to die. I've built myself a bit of a reputation and they know I won't hesitate to kill them on sight."

"Unless they help us?" she asked.

"Unless they help us," I clarified.

"Okay…" Emily said slowly, though her distrust was clear as day. "And the… _upstairs_ connections?"

"Angels," I said simply.

"Angels?" she questioned.

"What is it with us and repeating each other's sentences today?" I sighed. "Yes, angels. Or, _an_ angel, to be more precise."

"And, assuming there is such a thing as angels," Prentiss said, "what makes you so sure he'd help us?"

"Just trust me, alright?"

"No," she said. "I'm sorry, but it's my life on the line here. Forgive me if I'm not easy to trust."

I sighed. "Not long ago, there were two brothers," I started. "They started the Apocalypse. An angel helped them stop it. And he spent the past year making sure it won't start all over again. _This_ is who I trust."

Prentiss eyed me for a moment. "So let's say I trust you," she finally said. "What are you going to do?"

I stayed and spoke to Emily for another couple of hours, trying to solve the mess she had gotten herself into. I knew that with enough pressure at the right places, I could get Crowley do nearly anything I wanted, but I also knew that attempting at doing it wrong would come with a price I wasn't willing to pay.

We stayed awake for most of the night, until Emily's phone rang.

"Garcia?" she asked, and my head piped up. "Yeah, alright. Fine, I'll be there." She hung up the call and looked at me. "I need to get back to working on the case – it's a local one this time. I'll try to keep in touch."

"I should come and talk to Hotch today," I said. "If anyone asks, this meeting never happened."

"Don't worry about that," she muttered, standing up and looking at me. "Are you planning to go anytime soon?"

"Right about now," I said. "Same hour after you're done with the case," I informed her as I walked away.

From there, I headed back to my hotel room. I reached there, willing to enter a long, relaxing shower, when I saw a familiar figure sitting on my bed.

"You were gone for a long time," he said.

"I had things to take care of," I told Cas. "How are the boys?"

"Dean and Sam are currently tracking down the djinn who poisoned Dean," he said. "Dean said that once they were done, Lisa, Ben and him will return home." He hesitated for a moment before adding, "Will you return with them?"

"I don't suppose Dean would last much longer with no hunt," I said. "And I should go back on my team anyway."

"Are you sure it's wise?" he questioned. "I know this place can bring back… memories."

"I know it, too," I said. "And I'm willing to handle it, if and when the time comes."

"Will you be returning to the Behavioral Analysis Unit?"

"You don't expect me to sit around and do nothing all day, do you?" I asked, amused. "I'll drive myself mad."

"I know," Cas sighed. "I just fear that you might get hurt."

"And I fear that _you_ might get hurt, doing what you do," I told him. "But sometimes, there are things we have to do. Besides, if anything happened to me, you'll know."

"I don't want it to come this far," he mumbled, causing me to sit next to him.

"I know," I said, leaning in for a short but affectionate kiss. "I'm heading to the shower," I said as we broke apart. "Care to join me?"

"I never did realize why two individuals would take a shower together," Cas admitted.

"Well," I said, taking my clothes off, "you can stay here and keep thinking about it, or you can join me and find out."

I walked inside the bathroom and counted to three in my head before the angel followed me in, already without his tie and trench coat and quickly unbuttoning his shirt.

* * *

After Cas left, I slept for a couple of hours before getting up and going to the BAU. there were many things I wanted to discuss with Hotch and Rossi, and I thought it would be best to start as soon as we can.

Of course, the number of things I wanted to talk to them about weren't nearly as many as the things they wanted to speak to me about, but there was no way I was giving them answers to all of their questions. Even if I wanted to, there was still too much I didn't know – but I didn't want to.

Nonetheless, I walked into the bullpen area the way I always have. My head raised high, my short blonde hair spiked to perfection and carrying the attitude of one that owns the place.

The issue with working with profilers, though, was that they were always able to see right through every façade you pulled. And so, even though I had managed to avoid all of my team members on my way to Hotch's office, as soon as I walked through the door he analyzed me completely.

"Chessi," he said, attempting – and failing – to hide his surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, I'm back in town now," I said. "Thought I'd drop by and say hello. Haven't seen you in a while, after all."

"That's one way of saying it," he said, the cold, harsh, calculating look on his face. "Why are you really here?"

"Because I'm back," I said.

"For good?" he questioned.

"I can't promise that," I replied honestly. "What I can promise, however, is that I won't disappear without notice again."

"You know I can't just let you back on the team as if nothing ever happened," he warned.

"I don't expect you to act as if nothing ever happened," I shrugged. "After all, a lot have happened."

"Where were you during the past year?" he questioned.

"Here and there," I waved the question off.

"Where, Chess?"

"I was off doing a lot of things that an outsider might think them to be illegal," I retorted. "It's also called _hunting_."

Hotch sighed. "Remember when you were just fresh out of the Academy and came here for the interview?" he asked. I nodded, not seeing where he was headed, and he went on. "We sat right here. Gideon, you and I. He asked you why you wanted to be in the BAU. Do you remember what you said?"

"I said that you do an incredible job," I said, stretching my mind to remember that conversation. "I said that serial killers don't stop until they're stopped. Because there are people who didn't even know they were potential targets who can have lives and families because of you."

"Because of _us_ ," he corrected. "For almost five years, you were a part of this group. Of this _family_. It took a while, but we let you in, and that is not something to be taken lightly."

"I never said it was," I told him.

"You acted like it was," he retorted. "The lies, the drugs, the disappearances… I need someone who gets our dynamics, and I'm not sure if you're the best choice anymore."

"I did what I had to do in an impossible situation," I said. "I didn't exactly plan for the Apocalypse to happen, and I sure as hell didn't plan to be involved in it. But what was done is done, and I'm not going to apologize for my choices."

"And that's exactly where you make it so hard." There wasn't anger in his voice, only despair and the tiniest glimpse of hope, unnoticeable to anyone who didn't know him as well as I do. "You wanted to join the BAU for all the right reasons, and everything you did was for all the right reasons. Even if the right reasons meant being against us."

"I was never against you," I said, hurt that he would even think something like that. "Everything I did was to protect my family, and you're included in it. I _saw_ what would happen if we let the Apocalypse enroll."

"And what was that?" Hotch asked.

"Death, everywhere," I replied. "The only ones of our team that were still alive were Rossi, Morgan and Reid, and they took care of Henry and Jack. But my mere presence with them was a risk, even to that. I couldn't let that happen, Hotch."

Hotch sighed. "I need to think about it," he said.

"Understandable," I told him coolly. I rose from my seat and turned towards the door, stopped only by the sound of his voice.

"Chessi!"

I turned to look at him. "Yes?"

"The case we have right now… it involves encrypted messages," he sighed again. "Reid's been working on it for a while and he's getting nowhere, and you're the best I know at that field."

A playful smile crossed my lips. "Aaron Hotchner, are you asking for my help?" I asked, amused.

"Don't push it," Hotch said, though a small smile appeared on his lips, as well. "You're a visitor and a consultant, as of now."

"Still better than nothing, I guess," I told him. "Encryption, you said?"

* * *

"That is so brilliant," I said, looking at the message the Unsub sent the police, teasing them with their inability to crack it.

"So, you're back?" Garcia asked.

"It's got at least three levels of encryption here," I went on, looking at the odd series of numbers. "Four, if I'm not mistaken."

The message flashed on the screen in front of me, set in an anonymous chat room: **10 10 110 11100 11100 111110 10 10 11000 100 110 110 11000 11110 10 11110 1000 110 10 10 1?**

"You disappeared for a year and now you're back at the team?" Garcia asked.

"Not back, consulting," I corrected her. "Obviously, the spaces between the numbers have no significance other than the looks of it. Space after a series of zeros? _Please_."

"Are you listening to me?" she questioned, annoyed.

"Mostly," I said. "I'm too busy looking at the message. You said it was different between the different victims?"

"Yeah," Garcia said. "Which is odd, because usually even psychos don't change messages that often."

"No, they don't," I said, a grin splitting my face. "The encryption itself is changing between the victims. I need everything you've got about Amelia Holmes."

Two hours and four cups of coffee later, I ran towards the computer the team used to contact the Unsub.

"Chessi?" Morgan asked with surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"Consulting," I replied. "Move. I need to type."

"You're back?" Rossi asked, confused.

"Consulting," I repeated. "Move, move, move."

"How much coffee did you drink?" Prentiss questioned.

"Too much," I said. "But… wait for it…"

Quickly, I took out a small piece of paper and started typing into the chat box. When I was done, I could see the confused looks of the rest of them team, but I didn't care when I sent it.

 **111000 110 110 110 1000 10 1000 1100 10 10 110 111. 1000 11110 10?**

"What is it?" Morgan asked. "What did you send?"

"The messages, they were all the same," I explained. "A test, if you'd like, to see who could decipher his code."

"And you managed?" Prentiss asked.

"It was brilliant, really," I said excitedly. "You build a whole new alphabet using the letters of the victim's first name, and then you use it as a base and do the same with the last name. After that, you write the message, and then you switch every letter with the number of her place in the regular alphabet, and then you switch the numbers to binary!"

"I understood absolutely nothing of what you just said," Morgan muttered.

"I understood, but I don't understand how you managed to decipher it," Reid said, speaking for the first time since I arrived.

"It's like learning a new language," I said. "Some letters are more common than others, and some phrases are often used."

"Wait," Hotch said, looking at the computer screen that was now informing us that the Unsub was typing. "What was the message?"

" _Hello, what is your name?_ " I read out from my paper.

"And you told him?" Rossi asked, shocked.

Just then, a new message appeared on the screen.

 **10 10 110 1100 10 1100 11111000 1. 10 110 1000 110 10 10 110 110 10 100 11110 11110 1110 1. 3230 1100 111100 1111111000 110 1111000.**

"What is it?" Garcia asked. "You said he's using binary, what is he doing?"

"I think it's an address," I said, my brain already starting to decipher the message. I quickly took a pen and started working on discovering the message. Fifteen minutes later, I put my pen down and looked at what I received.

 **Nice try. I am impressed. 3230 Colorado Avenue.**

* * *

Unsurprisingly, the Unsub wasn't at the address he sent us. Amelia Holmes, however, was, shocked but otherwise unharmed. Every single one of us was on edge, waiting for something to happen. The new encrypted message arrived five minutes before a patrol officer told us about the next missing woman, Kate Alexander.

 **Hello, Agent Chess. How are you?**

 **I am fine. Where is Kate?**

 **Not so easy this time. 10 11 + 10 110?**

"What are the other numbers?" Spencer asked me, looking at the series of unrelated numbers with a "+" sign between them.

"Math question," I said. "He tries to trick me and distract me by trying to turn it into words. Much simpler than that, though," I added as I sent the next message.

 **10001.**

"We've got another address!" I called not even ten minutes later. "42 Lincoln Street!"

As soon as the team was out, I started going through security cameras all around town. I was running only on coffee and determination by then, but I _needed_ , more than wanted, to catch this one. I knew I had to prove myself worthy of being placed back in the team, and this was my opportunity.

After three hours of searching, I saw a car parking illegally. I was about to move to the next picture when I saw that the owner had kept the car at near-perfect conditions, and that the place where it parked was a neighborhood known for stealing and illegally selling cars.

A quick search at the license plate showed me what I had already suspected – the car owner was Christy McDonalds, a blonde, tall woman at her late twenties – just our Unsub's type.

I started writing the new alphabet on a piece of paper, managing, for the first time to send a message to our Unsub before he sent us one.

 **10 100 111110 110 110 10 1100 10 11110 110.**

"What did you send him?" Rossi questioned as I leaned back in my chair, waiting for a reply.

"I beat you," I said. "I'm throwing him off his comfort zone."

"It's risky," he warned me, but a new message was already received.

 **10 1110 10 10 11000 110 11110 1110 10 10 1.**

"He wants to meet," I said, sending an encrypted " **Where?** " back at him.

"You're not actually thinking about doing this, are you?"

"Why not?" I asked. "It's our chance of catching that guy!"

"It's his chance to kill you," Rossi retorted.

"He won't kill me," I said certainly. "He likes the challenge."

"What challenge?" Rossi asked, confused. "Diana, you are _not_ doing this! We can't authorize sending a citizen straight to the hands of a serial killer!"

"Yeah, okay," I muttered, looking at the next message that had just arrived.

 **1 1100 11110 10000 10 100 100 100 111111000 110 10 110000 1110 1110 10 10 1. 100 11110 11110 110 110 111110 1110.**

"Chessi, you're not meeting him," Rossi repeated.

"He cancelled the meeting," I lied effortlessly as I stood up. "Says he doesn't want to meet a fed."

"Where are you going?" he questioned.

"Home," I said. "Got nothing to do here anyway."

As soon as I was out of the building, I pulled out my phone and started the GPS. "1 Jericho Street," I typed into it, driving through the city on Darlin.

As the motorbike came to a stop, I looked at the house. It wasn't a big one, in the middle of a wealthy neighborhood. It looked like the typecast of a suburban area, and all I could think of is what would the neighbors said if they knew what was going on here.

The whole thing was very "Desperate Housewives" – too emotional for me to comprehend – so I did what I do best in this type of scenarios. I walked right into the house.

The pistol was in my hand, charged and ready to fire at a moment's warning. I didn't have a very elaborated plan but I had something, which was better than what I did for most of last year.

I jumped, startled, as something broke in the kitchen. A closer look revealed a cat walking on the table and a broken glass on the floor, and I breathed in slowly to relax myself. My breath hitched again at the feeling of something cold pressed against the back of my neck.

"Put the gun down," a hoarse voice ordered. I obliged without thought, securing the gun before letting it drop to the ground. "Turn around," he ordered.

The Unsub was just what the profile the team managed to create before I arrived said. Not very good-looking, not remarkably tall or short or anything, really. He was exactly the type of men a woman would overlook without a second thought, and that was probably what made his target these women.

The ten women he'd raped and killed, the other two we've saved and the one whose whereabouts was currently unknown. These women who, now that I had come to think of it, looked too much like me for my mental health at the moment.

"I seemed to be at a disadvantage here," I said, building up walls over walls to hide my fear. "You know who I am, but I don't know you."

"Duncan," he said shortly, his gun pointing right at my chest as he took a step back so I couldn't fling it away from his grasp.

 _Smart move, Duncan._

"It's nice to finally meet you," I said, only half lying. "Where's Christy?"

"I let her go as soon as you told me you'll meet me," he said. "She's… boring. Ordinary. You, on the other hand, you're different – special."

"I'll do well even without being special," I muttered.

"Did you know how little information there is about you?" Duncan asked, ignoring my comment. "Barely anything at all. And nothing from the past year and a half, other than some missing person reports."

"I remember when that happened," I said poisonously. "Good times."

"You're a mystery," he told me. "And I do love a good mystery."

"And what would happen once you've cracked it?" I questioned.

Duncan smiled viciously. "You know what would happen."

I took a deep breath, unable to hide my fear any longer. "And what would happen if you didn't manage to crack it?" I asked, my voice trembling.

"Then I guess I would just have to try harder."

That moment, many things happened at once.

The sound of a car pulling to a halt in front of the house was heard, closely followed by a second and a third. Duncan moved his eyes away from me for a second, and I quickly disarmed him, pointing the gun to him just as the door burst open.

"Over here!" I called, and then Morgan was there, cuffing Duncan while he told him his rights and Rossi came to me, extracting the gun from my tight, shaking hands and leading me outside.

* * *

"You don't know how to be a part of a team anymore."

I was sitting in Hotch's office, waiting for him to yell at me, to tell me I was never going back to the team after the stunt I pulled not even a day after he told me he had to think about putting me back on the team. I was waiting for him to do any one of the million things I was certain he would have done – the things I knew I would have done during my first couple of years at the BAU, when he knew I had secrets and he hadn't manage to crack them.

Instead, that was what he said, tiredly and somewhat fearfully as he sat down in front of me.

"Have you been working alone all of the past year?" he asked. "Constantly going ahead with no plan or backup?"

"I had a plan," I said. "That was why I called Garcia right before I walked into the house."

"That's not a plan," he insisted. "Part of having backup means that your backup _knows_ your plan."

"You would have never agreed to my plan," I rationalized.

"We could have thought of a better one, together," he said. "I thought we were past the days you were doing things without us. We were past being prepared to leave the team just to protect Bobby, or running to see Ash, or keeping a whole other life a secret from us."

"A lot have changed during the past year," I said.

"But _you_ didn't. Who you were – who you still _are_." He sighed. "You're our Chessi. You're family. You're the one who was there with Reid when Hankle took him, and the one who made sure he stopped with the drugs. You were there when Foyet attacked me, and when Garcia was shot…"

"So what if I was?" I asked.

"Each member of the team owes their life to you," he said.

"And I owe it to you," I said. "But we don't talk about it, because that's what being us means. It means loving you to the point where I'd give up everything to keep you safe."

"Is that why you're back?"

The question caught me off my guard, so much that I didn't even hesitate when I replied. "Yes," I said. "I can't tell you everything, but there's trouble, and I'm going to stay in Virginia until they're fixed." I looked at him. "Even more, if you'd still want me."

"We're going to need to learn how to trust you again," he said. "I know Garcia, Reid and Rossi are mostly relieved that you're alright, but Morgan is hurt and I don't even know how Prentiss feels right now." He sighed. "I don't even know how I feel right now."

"So what does it mean?" I questioned.

"It means that you're back. On the condition," he added, "that you stop hiding this sort of things from me. I understand that you won't tell me everything, but you can't go head first alone like that anymore. You need to earn our trust again."

"I'm willing to," I said honestly.

"Then it's already a start," he said. "SSA Diana Chess," he smiled softly, "welcome back to the BAU."

* * *

 **A/N:** **Long chapter!**

 **I really wasn't sure if I'll finish it on time, but apperantly I did (And don't listen to those who say it's technically monday already, it still counts) and I'm uploading it right away for you. Just noting _Simone140089_ who faved this story 26 minutes after I uploaded it - You. Are. Incredible.**

 **Another note, all of the encrypted messages in this chapter are real. I sat and coded it by the code Diana explained during the chapter. It was actually really fun.**

 **The name of this chapter means " _Cipher_ ", on the base of the name "Diana Winchester".**

 **The messages are (By order):**

 **Unsub: Hello, what is your name?**

 **Diana: SSA Diana Chess. You?**

 **U: Nice try. I am impressed. 3230 Colorado Avenue.**

 **U: Hello, Agent Chess. How are you?**

 **D: I am fine. Where is Kate?**

 **U: Not so easy this time. 11 + 22?**

 **D: 33**

 **U: Good. 42 Lincoln Street.**

 **D: I beat you.**

 **U: Let's meet.**

 **D: Where?**

 **U: 1 Jericho Street. Come alone.**


	3. Family Sucks

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or Criminal Minds.**

* * *

 **"All happy families are alike;  
Each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way."  
Leo Tolstoy, _Anna Karenina_**

A year ago:

 _A series of quick knocks were heard on the cabin door and I rushed towards it, gun in hand._

 _"Who is it?" I called out._

 _"Samuel Campbell," a gruff voice said from the other side. "Me and a couple of others were hunting nearby and one of us got hurt. Rumor has it that you're in the area."_

 _"This area is under my protection," I said. "I don't need strangers running around, I'm not a nurse to take care of you, and the only Samuel Campbell I know is dead for nearly forty years."_

 _"The only Sam Winchester you know is dead for two months, too," a familiar voice said. "But I'm still here."_

 _Slowly, I put the gun down and grabbed a silver knife. I opened the door and allowed them to come in before checking each one of the six hunters who were stood in front of me._

 _"Aren't you gonna check us for being demons?" the only woman there asked._

 _"You went through the Devil's Trap on the ceiling, so I guess you're in the clear." Six heads darted to look up at the ceiling, looking at me with appreciation as they looked back down. "You said you had an injured one?"_

 _"Yeah," the one I assumed was Samuel said. "We lied."_

 _"I'm not even surprised," I muttered. "What are you doing here? All of you should be dead." I looked at Sam. "I_ saw _you die."_

 _"Something brought us back," Sam shrugged._

 _"Something, eh?" I asked. "That's always good, isn't it?"_

 _"She's just what you said she was, Sam," one of the boys said, sending me a flirtatious smile._

 _"I bet she's more than that," Samuel said. "And quit the flirting, Mark, she's practically your cousin."_

 _"Well, let's skip all of the getting to know each other thing, since I don't really care," I said before Mark could protest. "What do you need?"_

 _"We're hunting a werewolf now," Sam said, and I looked at him suspiciously. Sam was supposed to drag me into a hug by now, even if there were people around. "We need more backup."_

 _"Since when can't you handle a werewolf?" I questioned._

 _"Since it's an Alpha," he replied. "It's only two days. You'll be back here in no time."_

 _"I better," I told them, grabbing a bag with everything I need. "Or my next hunt after the Alpha would be you."_

* * *

Rossi and I stood, looking at the cadets at the Academy as an agent called instructions at them. Next to us stood Agent Thompson, the same trainer I had while at the Academy, and I couldn't help but smile at the way he stayed exactly the same, and how terrified the cadets must be.

Some things never change.

As he was yelling, one of the cadets managed to grab the mannequin who represented her wounded partner, hoist it on her back and climb over the wall with it.

"That's about the fastest I've ever seen anyone figure that out," he said. "Faster than you, Chess."

"Is this the first time she's ever done that?" Rossi asked.

"He change the task every day," I replied with unhidden fondness.

We turned and walked to where the trainees stayed once they've finished their task and saw her stretching her arms and legs after the effort.

"Agent Seaver," Thompson called, causing her to turn towards him.

"Sir," she said respectfully.

"You remember SSA Rossi from the behavioral analysis unit?" he asked.

"Of course," she said, looking a bit troubled and I huffed.

"Five years, that's all it takes for you to forget me?" I asked teasingly. "I'm Chess," I introduced myself to the young woman. "You know, the one whose record you've just beaten."

"Nice to meet you," she said with a small, clearly fake smile. "And nice to see you again, agent."

"It's been quite a long time," Rossi said.

"Yes, sir," Seaver said.

"You weren't easy to find," I said. "You're supposed to be working the reception desk at the Washington field office."

"I'm on my break," she justified. "I was told that I could run the course in my free time if I wanted to. My concussion –"

"At ease," Thompson said, giving her one of his rare smiles. "If this is how you want to spend your free time, you have at it." He looked between the three of us. "I'm gonna let the three of you talk. Don't you disappear on me again, Chessi."

"No, sir," I replied and he turned to Rossi.

"Dave," he greeted him goodbye.

"Thanks, Bill," Rossi said, shaking his hand before the old trainer walked away.

"He's something special, isn't he?" I asked, trying to relieve some of the tension.

"Drop it," Seaver said, looking at Rossi. "I know you're too busy to just visit, and you wouldn't have brought her with you."

"We want to show you something," Rossi said.

"Because of my impressive academy scores or my childhood?" she questioned.

"Let's take a ride," was all Dave said.

We drove to the BAU in silence, Rossi closing the radio with a pointed look whenever I was trying to put some music on.

"I'm the driver," he finally told me. "It's your rules."

I laughed at him and rolled my eyes, pulling a face at Seaver through the review mirror. She didn't smile back. When we reached Quantico, the three of us headed straight back to Hotch's office and walked inside.

"You remember agent Hotchner?" Rossi questioned.

"Yes, of course," Seaver said.

"Good to see you," Hotch said, standing up to shake her hand. "Glad to see you're doing so well."

"Thank you," she replied politely.

"Have a seat," Hotch told her and she obliged, even if somewhat reluctantly.

Rossi moved to sit next to Hotch and I sat next to Seaver, where I could see the responses of all three of them while still keeping an eye on the door. It had been nearly a month since I was back on the team but old habits still live long.

"I told Ashley she may be able to help us with this case," Rossi said.

"We have an Unsub who manages to live in close proximity to his victims without raising an alarm," Hotch said. "That we've seen before. What's new here is what the local police are telling us about the community itself."

"Demographically, everyone's basically the same," I interfered, watching how Seaver was slowly closing her face, hiding her emotions. "Most of the parameters we would look for to build a profile seem to exist in most of the men."

"But we thought," Hotch went on with a pointed look my way to stop interrupting, "if the unsub has children, and the statistics tell us that he probably does, would the children exhibit certain specific behavior?"

"So this isn't about my academic scores," Seaver said, rather than asked.

"No," Rossi admitted

"Great," she said, slight sarcasm dripping into her voice. "Give me 15 minutes. I have a change of clothes in the car."

"Agent, we're not detailing you to the unit," Hotch said. "We want to ask you some questions."

"Right," she said, half coldly. "I see."

"Do you have some concerns?" Rossi questioned.

"I want to help, and I know that I can. But –"

"She can't tell you what to look for without seeing the families herself," I said. "She needs to be there."

Hotch seemed to think about it for a couple of seconds. "You understand you go only as a consultant on this one case?" he asked.

"I understand," she replied.

"And you're to do nothing without another member of the team present."

"Yes, sir," she said determinedly.

"This won't be easy, Ashley," Rossi said softly. "It may trigger some extremely painful memories."

"I appreciate the concern," Seaver said in a voice that made it clear that she didn't. "But when your father kills 25 women before you're a teenager, painful memories don't need a trigger. They just are."

After a couple more minutes of discussion, Hotch told her she could go and I volunteered to walk her to her car and back. I was anxious to find out more about her – someone whom I felt could, even slightly, understand some of the things I was going through.

"If it makes you feel any better, a month ago they told me I'm a consultant only for one case," I said.

She didn't even look at me, much less replied.

* * *

I stood with Rossi, Hotch, Reid and Seaver as people came in through the church doors for a community meeting. We were observing the crowd, trying to look for anything that would seem out of the ordinary when Prentiss and Morgan came in.

"We just came from the last victim's house," Morgan said. "The unsub used the garage as access. Maybe a remote door opener made to be universal."

"The police are saying it's random," Prentiss said, "but how could you randomly find a woman so vulnerable? Garcia's going over backgrounds again, trying to highlight anyone with tech experience."

"She's also doing a full workup on Brinkman and Ruiz," Hotch said, referring to the two men who worked security for the area. "They had that kind of access."

"Has anyone _seen_ Ruiz?" I asked.

"I saw him a while ago," Rossi said.

"He set up everyone filling out forms, but I haven't seen him since," Reid added.

"We need to ask for help in a different way," Hotch said. "Tell people that we're looking for someone who might have _seen_ something rather than someone who _did_ something."

"No one thinks that their friends or neighbors are capable of this," I said bitterly.

"We should get started," Rossi said, and all seven of us settled around the room.

Hotch was standing at the middle of the room, talking, while the rest of us were at the sides of it, observing. Slowly, I made my way towards the spot where Seaver stood, next to Morgan.

"We're hoping that someone may have seen something and not even realized it," Hotch was saying. "Maybe you have a neighbor who takes his trash out late, works on his car in his garage, anything that might put someone outside at an odd hour and giving them the opportunity to see something."

"Is there anything we can help you look for?" I asked.

"It won't be overt," she said. "The kids probably won't be afraid of dad."

"They won't?" Morgan asked, surprised. "These guys have explosive tempers, don't they?"

"Definitely," Seaver said. "Anger wasn't normal at my house. Usually when it happened, when it exploded, it was an anomaly, a surprise. If anything, my father was overly solicitous. Too nice. And if I wanted anything – bicycles, toys, dolls – all I had to do was ask."

A shiver ran through my spine as I realized how similar this description was to the way John treated Sammy and me. Not Dean, but we always had nearly everything we wanted – at least, until he sent me off for Bobby.

"In groups, he always held my hand," Seaver went on. " _Always_. Sometimes so tight, it almost cut off the circulation. But… I can never remember him putting me on his lap, holding me in any way."

She drifted off in thought for a moment before Morgan called her and pulled her right back in.

"And he'd always have these talks with me," she said, as if unable to stop. "He was terrified someone would take me."

"Because he knew what was out there," I said. _Just like John knew what was out there. Just like Bobby does._

"Yeah," Morgan huffed, "men like him."

"You know, maybe this man recently bought gifts for his kids," Seaver said. "My dad used to buy me things all the time."

"What kinds of gifts?" I asked, halfway lost in my own thoughts about my childhood and struggling to get back to the present.

"Anything," she said sadly. "Everything. I told you, there was nothing... My whole life, there's only one thing I wanted that I couldn't have."

"Which was?" Morgan asked.

Seaver looked up in realization. "A pet."

* * *

The meeting was cut short when we found out about another murder in the community. I was to take Seaver back to the house we used as base, and go over the details of eighteen men who didn't show up for the meeting.

"That was good stuff back there, what you said," I told her when we were in the car. "That was helpful."

"Was it?" she asked in disbelief and coldness.

"Yeah," I said. "Profiling is a process. It's about… puzzle pieces, things that don't look like they fit until they do."

"I still don't know how anything I said will be helpful," she told me.

"Well, you never know," I said with half a smile, causing her to frown at me. "If we have a subject in interrogation, knowing that a father who's a serial killer who might be overprotective, that could be the perfect way to get him to talk," I explained.

"Nobody ever thinks about the killer's family," she said bitterly.

"I do," I admitted. I hesitated a bit, before adding, "Is he still alive, your father?"

"North Dakota does not have the death penalty," she said. "And the answer to your next questions is no, I have never been to see him."

"I wasn't about to ask," I said.

"You were," she informed me. "He writes from time to time, but I haven't opened any of the letters."

"Do you keep them?"

"Yes," she said, sighing. "Is that wrong?

I sighed thinking about everything I did the past year to protect someone everybody think is a psychotic, cold-blooded murderer. "I don't think there is any right or wrong when it comes to that."

"Let's hope the occupancy listings show pets," I sighed as we walked into the house. "This is the pile of suspects we need to weed the eighteen from."

"What are these?" Seaver asked, marking at three other files next to the bigger one.

"Victim information," I said. "Of the families of the three women who were killed."

"Families," she repeated, her voice void of emotion.

"Yeah, families are the hardest part about this job," I sighed.

"Meeting over?" The two of us jumped as Brinkman showed up from behind us. "Relax," he said in a tone that only made me more nervous. "It's just me. How'd the meeting go?"

"We missed you there," Seaver commented.

"Well, I thought it would be a good time for a sweep," he said, "you know, while everyone was busy. What are you girls looking for?"

"Whether or not any of the no-shows have pets," I told him, a shiver running through my spine despite how hard I was trying to hide it.

"Pets?" Brinkman asked. "Those reports aren't gonna show that. But I can find out for you. Got all that information in the security office at the gate on the south end. I'll show you."

Every single one of my senses told me not to listen to him, and to stay with Seaver, as I weren't supposed to leave her alone.

"Maybe you could just bring it here?" I offered. "I should go through these with Agent Seaver."

"I'm okay," Seaver said, obviously trying to make me go away.

"I'll be back," I told her and she rolled her eyes at me, not even attempting to hide it.

"Pets, pets, pets," Brinkman muttered as he looked through files. "I know they're in here somewhere."

"Maybe I should take a look," I suggested.

"Relax," he said. "Why you gotta be in such a hurry?"

"Because we're trying to catch a killer," I told him, my annoyance growing as moments moved on.

"Yeah," Brinkman brushed it off. "Here it is."

I took him and started walking away, back into the house when he called for me.

"Wait," he said and despite every fiber of my body that screamed at me to keep going, I stopped.

"Yes?" I asked.

"How hard is the background check to get into the FBI?" he asked. "I got arrested once. It was supposed to be expunged, but it wasn't. It was really all just a big misunderstanding."

"Oh, well, you know, if it was a _misunderstanding_ ," I said sarcastically.

"Really?" he asked.

"No."

* * *

Seaver was in trouble. While I was away, she went to one of the victim's house to give her computer back, and her husband, who turned to be the killer, held her hostage.

I was blaming myself for letting her out of my sight, and knew that if anything happened to her I won't be able to forgive myself.

"Prentiss and Morgan, take the back," Hotch ordered. "Make noise. Let him know he's caught. It may be the only chance she's got."

We came rushing into the house and I walked upstairs with Hotch and Rossi while the rest of the team covered the rooms downstairs. Rossi took the little girl away and Hotch and I walked into the room to see the killer with a knife held at Seaver's throat.

"Drop the knife," Hotch ordered evenly.

"Daddy!" the little girl was calling from behind us and I ignored it as I spoke.

"Drop the knife!" I said, raising my voice so he won't hear how nervous I was.

"I'm sorry, baby," he muttered. "I'm so sorry."

The knife left Seaver's throat as the killer came rushing forwards towards us, and with a shot out of Hotch's gun and another from mine, he was dead on the floor.

Later, when we were on the plane, sat by one another, Hotch and Rossi approached us. Or, more specifically, they approached Seaver.

"You were not supposed to go off on your own," Hotch said.

"I know," Seaver replied.

"You could have been killed," he went on.

"I know that, too," she said.

"Why, Ashley?" Rossi questioned. "You're smarter than that."

"I never got to apologize to any of the victims," she said simply. "The families of the women my father killed. I thought if I could just apologize to one family that had been hurt that way…"

"I'm sorry, that's not good enough," Hotch said harshly. "By making that choice, you put everyone at risk. When you're in the field, we are _responsible_ to and for each other. We are a _team_."

"Cut her some slack, Hotch," I said. "I did far worse and you let it go."

"Don't remind me," he said. "I'm constantly having second thoughts about you being here."

"Well, don't take it out on the poor –"

"Why are you doing this?" Seaver asked me, all of her distress coming out at once. "Why are you always trying to talk to me? To protect me? What's the problem with you, is it _pity_?"

Rossi and Hotch exchanged a concerned glance. I knew that they were both worried about the year I was missing in, and wanted me to talk more about my feelings, but they also knew I wasn't ready for it, yet.

They knew – or, at least, hoped – that if I were, I'd come to them.

"We'll leave you two to talk," Hotch said, walking to the back of the plane as Seaver looked at me.

"Well?" she asked. "Are you going to answer me?"

"Chess isn't my real last name," I said. "My brothers are Sam and Dean Winchester. _The_ Sam and Dean Winchester."

"The Dean Winchester who faked his death three times?" she asked.

"And my twin brother," I said. "Everything you said, about how your dad acted – my dad was the same towards me and Sammy. But not Dean. And you can see how it makes him different – how even though Sammy and I ran away, Dean stuck by John."

"And you were trying to see if everything we said matched your childhood?" she asked.

"My childhood wasn't peachy," I said. "We travelled a lot until John stuck me at my uncle's house. That kind of things fucks up a person, you know? And… I can't go and tell people I'm Dean's sister with the ease you introduced yourself as Beauchamp's daughter."

Ashley sighed. "You keep talking about them in present tense," she said. "But FBI records say that they're dead."

"A year ago, FBI records said I was dead, too," I said.

"Do you think they're innocence?" she asked.

 _If you killed a monster, something that used to be human, does it mean that you killed a human? Or that whatever it was that turned them to a monster killed the human?_

 _Not all monsters are killers. And I've seen hunters kill even those who didn't hurt anybody, just because of what they were._

"I used to say they were," I said. "Now… I'm not so sure anymore."

"You didn't talk about this with anybody, did you?" she asked. "You're just keeping it all inside."

"Who am I supposed to talk to?" I asked.

"Your team, for a start," she said. "I saw the way you are acting towards each other. You're a family."

"Well, I suck at being a family," I said.

"Me too," she said. "You don't see it stop me from trying."

I sighed, slowly starting to understand the point she was trying to pass through. Slowly, I stood up and sat by Morgan.

"You're avoiding me," I told him.

"I'm not avoiding you," he said, but didn't turn his glance away from the window.

"Yes, you are," I told him. "That's okay. I deserve far worse."

"Do you?" he asked. "Because I don't think you understand just how much."

"I understand that you're angry."

" _Angry_?" He spoke so loud that the heads of everyone on the plane turned to look at us. "Angry doesn't begin to cover for it. And I'm not talking just about disappearing for a year," he added. "I'm talking even before that, when you disappeared for hours – _days_ , sometimes. I'm talking about three months that we had no clue where you were. We thought the worst, Chessi! And as soon as you were back, you took off again. A message here, a phone call there… _that's_ what making me so angry about the year!"

I looked up, tears in my eyes as I looked at the rest of the team. "Did you all feel like that?" I asked.

"You weren't the same person anymore," Reid said quietly.

"And I'm not the same person right now," I said. "I… I had three families. The first, I left when I was eighteen. The second, I lost. I spent the past year trying to hunt down the one who killed Jenna and Daniel."

"Did you manage?" Prentiss asked.

"No," I replied.

"So why did you come back?" Morgan questioned.

"Because someone reminded me of the third family," I said, sighing. "But… I'm not sure if I know how to be a part of something like that anymore, without ruining it. And, sometimes, it's easier to run away than to take the risk."

"We don't care about the risk," Rossi said gently. "For us, you are worth the risks. Do we worth it for you?"

"Of course you are," I said. "But what if it all falls apart?"

"Then at least you know you tried."


	4. Memories

**A/N:** **I know I hadn't posted in a while, and that I'm late, and I'm sorry. This chapter was... hard, and I hope it turned out okay.**

 **Thank you for sticking with me through it, it means more to me that you could imagine!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or Criminal Minds.**

* * *

 **"I'm gonna make it bend and break,  
(It sent you to me without wings)  
Say a prayer but let the good times roll,  
In case God doesn't show."  
Fall Out Boys, ****_Thanks For The Memories_**

 _I was curled up on my bed in the small cabin in the woods, crying silently to myself after I woke up from one of Dean's nightmares – the one where Sam leaped into the cage. It broke my heart to know how hurt he was about it, and even more than that to know that the memories he has of that day aren't even real._

 _The scene flashed in front of my eyes. I was raising my hand and focusing of Sam's consciousness inside his body, pushing Lucifer aside. Sam telling Dean everything was going to be okay as tears were streaming from my eyes both from the physical and the emotional effort of that day._

 _Sam pulled the four horsemen rings out of his pocket and chanted the spell to open up the cage. He stood on the edge, ready to jump in, when Michael returned. Sam grabbed Adam's body and they both fell into the cage, my two baby brother trapped there with two very pissed off Archangels._

 _I looked at the clock, seeing it was past midnight on September 23. The sobs increased, filling my entire being until there was nothing else left. Suddenly, a weird feeling washed through my body as Cas' grace in me seemed to be shining brighter than usual._

 _A hand was put on my shoulder and I looked up to see him, standing next to me._

 _"It's okay," he muttered. "I know it's sad, but things will be okay."_

 _"She would have been a year old today," I whispered. "But she's not. She's dead." My voice broke at the last word, causing Cas to climb into bed and envelope me in his hug._

 _"I'm not going to say it is okay," he told me, "because it's not. But it will get better."_

 _"How do you know?"_

 _"Because I know you," he whispered into my hair. "I know you, and I know how strong you are."_

 _"What if I'm not strong enough?" I questioned._

 _"Then I'll be strong for you."_

 _We laid that way for a couple more minutes before I spoke again._

 _"I used to think Dean and Sam would meet her someday," I admitted, thinking about my twin brother who was so close and still so far away, and my younger brother who was back, but not for real. "After the whole Apocalypse mess was sorted, I'd go look for them. They'll get to know their niece. I wish I would have done it sooner," I added. "I wish I would have gone to them sooner – that I would have come to you sooner. I hate it that you never really met our daughter."_

 _"I visited her in Heaven," Castiel told me. "I held her, the beautiful little thing that she is."_

 _"She would have been a year old today," I repeated. "Now she'll stay six months forever."_

 _"I saw your parents, too," he said, ignoring my comment. "I don't know how he's doing it, but your dad managed to be intimidating even though he's dead. Threatened that if I ever hurt you, he'd raise havoc – whatever that means."_

 _A small laugh escaped my lips. "That's John," I said. "Through and through." I snuggled closer to him, resting my head on his chest. "Will you stay?"_

 _"Of course I will."_

 _"When I wake up," I said. "You're never there when I wake up. Will you stay?"_

 _"Go to sleep, Diana," Cas told me. "I promise I'd be here when you wake up."_

* * *

It was Wednesday afternoon, a couple of hours after we came back from a case. I was already done with my paperwork, and Garcia said that there would probably be no case for the rest of the week, but with a job like ours, you could never know.

That was how I found myself standing at the doorway to Hotch's office, slowly yet efficiently convincing myself that I should just ask the stupid question already, just to get it over with.

"Hotch?" I asked, trying to keep the edge of worry out of my voice.

"Yeah?" he asked, not taking his eyes off the paper he was reading.

"I was wondering if I could take an extended vacation this weekend," I said. "Starting tomorrow and up until Sunday. You know, just to make sure, in case there would be a case."

He raised his glance to look at me, undoubtedly noting the tense posture I was standing in and the way my hands shook, despite my best attempts.

"Are you okay?" he questioned.

The affirmative answer was already at the tip of my tongue, when I found myself saying, "No." In respond to the look of surprise on his face, I added, "It's Jenna. It's her birthday this Friday. I mean, it would have been, if… if…"

"It's okay," he said. His face was a mask, void of emotion as ever, but I knew him well enough to see the concern in his eyes. "Take as long as you need. Do you mind if I ask what are you going to do?"

"A couple of hunters asked for help on a case they're working," I said. "I'll clear my mind and be back this Monday, good as new."

"Good," he said, nodding his head as I turned to leave. "And Chessi?" I turned around. "I don't think I ever got to properly say how very sorry for you loss I am."

"Thank you," I replied, a tightening beginning in my throat. "See you on Monday."

She walked out of the building, ignoring the curious looks everybody but Rossi and Spencer were sending her. She suspected, somewhere in the back of her mind, that they remembered the date, but didn't let herself overthink it.

She didn't want – or need – their pity.

Starting Darlin, she drove to her apartment and grabbed her hunter's backpack before heading back out. I called the number I was given the first time my once-dead family turned up on my door, living and breathing, and waited for Sam to pick up.

"Fill me in," I said without greeting.

"We're dealing with a Shifter in Lansing, Michigan," he replied. "Kill the parents, take the babies."

"Any clue what he's doing with them?" I asked.

"Nada."

"Any connection between the victims?"

"They all had Harper Caine Security."

"So we've got a way in but no motive?" I followed his train of thought. "Anything else?"

"We're pretty stuck, actually," Sam admitted.

I sighed. "So you called me for backup?"

"That, too," he replied. "We actually have a little issue at the moment."

"Issue?" I repeated.

"It's best if you just come here," he said, giving me the address.

"Hey!" a familiar voice called. "Who are you talking to?"

"Backup," Sam replied.

"You better didn't put me on speaker!" I called out, stressed at the sound of Dean's voice.

"You're not on speaker," Sam said. "Just come already."

Stopping by the side of the deserted rode, I looked up. "Cas!" I called. "I need a ride!"

"Where to?" he asked, manifesting in front of me.

"Lansing, Michigan," I told him, and with a flutter of wings, it was like we were never there.

* * *

I parked my motor outside the motel Sam told me to come to. Walking to his room number, I knocked on the door, making myself invisible before Dean called out from inside.

"Who is it?" he asked.

 _Backup,_ I replied.

He opened the door and looked right through me. "Baby Doll. Long time, no see."

 _Did you just make an invisibility joke?_ I asked.

"He did," Sam replied, coming out of the bathroom. "Ignore him."

 _So what's the issue?_ I asked.

Dean and Sam exchanged looks before Dean walked to a crib that stood at the corner of the room and lifted a small baby, holding him a feet away from his body.

"We need help," he said.

 _I figured as much,_ I said. _Have you ever held a baby before?_

"Never had to," he replied. "Hopefully, I'll never need to again."

 _Hand him to me,_ I said, walking towards him and taking the baby from his hands. _What's his name?_

"Bobby-John," Sam said, looking quite disturbed at the fact that the baby disappeared as soon as I grabbed it.

 _Great sense of creativity,_ I mocked.

"No, because you did so much better," he retorted, causing me to glare at him with anger while Dean looked mostly bemused.

 _So, why am I here?_ I asked. _I'm guessing you didn't bring me here to babysit._

"We kinda did," Sam said.

 _You what?_ I asked. _Do you know how much trouble I had gone through to come here? Just so I can babysit? No way, I came here to kill some sons of bitches._

"We don't know a thing about babies," Dean said.

"You do," Sam added, as if I needed the reminder. "Just do it for a little while and then you can go home."

 _I don't want to do it and go home,_ I said. _I want to hunt._

"Why is this such a big deal for you?" Dean asked.

 _I need to clear my mind._

"By hunting?" he questioned. "Tried that. Trust me, it doesn't work as well as you'd think."

"It would if I wouldn't have to babysit," I muttered, though I knew they couldn't hear me. _So what now?_

"We found a lead," Sam replied. "This house on Elm – the mother was killed, baby was grabbed, but daddy wasn't living in the house at the time, so he's still alive."

 _So you're going to have a chat and I'm stuck on baby duty?_

"Yup," Dean said, grabbing his coat and walking outside. "Good luck."

And before I was able to add another word, the two was gone. Making myself visible again, I looked at the baby in my arms.

"I guess it's just you and me, Bobby-John."

As it turned out a couple of hours later, Bobby-John made terrible company. I was laying on the motel bed, bored to my bones and doing anything I could not to take the bottle of whiskey Dean left in the room and drink until I didn't think.

How old was this baby? Six months old? Less? More?

Jenna was about that old when she died. She would have been two if she didn't.

Sighing to myself, I poured a glass of scotch and looked at it, trying to make up my mind.

On the one hand, I wanted to drink it, and then possibly drink the rest of the bottle. Just succumb to the joys of not feeling anything. On the other hand, I knew that if I started, I wouldn't be able to stop.

I would tell myself it was just a beer here, just a shot there, but it wouldn't be. I'd find myself sitting on the floor of my apartment, so drunk I couldn't pick up the phone that was ringing. It would only get worse, too, since I knew it won't take long after I was drinking again and before I drifted downwards and into Dilaudid.

I poured the alcohol in the glass to the sink and laid back on the bed.

Suddenly, an odd sound was heard from the baby's direction – a bang and then a sound like someone was ripping off a bandage. I darted to my feet and neared him only to see splutters of something on the wall and an African American baby in the crib, looking much like the one on the diapers' carton.

My phone rang and I picked it up, an automatic "Chessi" at my lips.

"We talked to the father," Sam said without greeting. "He checks out. But the baby…"

"Yeah?" I asked.

"I think the Shapeshifter is its dad."

"I'm way ahead of you here," I muttered. "Come. Now."

I hung up and started cleaning the crying baby, cooing at him to try to make him stop crying. As it seemed, changing your skin seemed like a rather traumatizing experience for a baby. A couple of knocks were heard on the door and my eyes darted up.

"Manager," the voice called. "Everything okay in there?"

"Yeah," I quickly said. "We're fine, thank you. Good night," I added as an afterthought.

"There's been complaints," he said. "You mind opening the door, ma'am?"

"It's not a good time," I replied. "Just… Um… Just got out of the shower."

I held the baby in my hands and he stopped crying, but the man on the other side of the door managed to bust it open and then I was facing it, silver knife in one hand and a baby in the other. He pointed his gun at me but all I did was make it burn hot until he dropped it.

"Get out of the way," he ordered.

"Not gonna happen," I said determinedly.

"A child should be with his father."

"Well, I've got to be honest," I said, "I'm not really seeing the family resemblance."

"I'm not just talking about me," the Shifter said, an odd smile building on his face. "I'm talking about our father."

"Well, I'm not letting you take him anywhere so you've got a problem." He walked towards me but I shook my head. "I've got the baby," I said. "I've got the silver knife. Step back."

"I heard about you," the Shifter told me. "The Child of Creation. Would you really kill a baby just because of what they are?"

"I wasn't talking about the baby," I said, and the Shifter launched himself at me.

I turned around, protecting the baby with my body just as a gunshot was heard. Voices were talking but I wasn't listening, I couldn't listen.

 _Would you really kill a baby just because of what they are?_

I wouldn't. But the same might not be said about Sam in his current state, and possibly Dean, as well. Would they kill him just because he's a Shifter? Would they kill him like Raphael killed Jenna?

"Baby Doll?"

The nickname somehow managed to get past the barrier I built around myself, but I didn't dare to look up and face their stares.

"It's just a baby," I said. "Please, don't kill it. Please."

"We're not going to kill it," Sam said. "But we need to get out of here. Police is on the way."

"Where are we going?" Dean asked as it stood up, making myself invisible yet again but still not looking at them.

"Somewhere safe," was all Sam said, exiting the room once more.

* * *

"You know, it's pretty smart, actually," Sam said as we were sitting in his car. "I mean, shifter poses as a guard for the security company to get near the house. Then it scopes out the fam."

"Yeah," Dean said. "Then daddy takes off, and the shifter becomes daddy. Few glasses of wine, shakes mama's trees, comes back in nine months to collect its prize."

Sam sighed. "I didn't even know they had babies."

 _Everybody has babies,_ I said.

"Yeah, but I thought they were just freaks of nature," he said. "Like… like X-MEN style."

"Yeah, you learn something new every day, huh?" Dean asked.

Sam looked at the baby through the review mirror. "I've never seen a baby monster before," he said.

 _It's not a monster,_ I said. _It's a baby._

"But it's a shifter, too," Sam insisted.

 _You can't control being born._

"Touched a soft spot?" Dean teased.

 _Don't,_ was my only reply.

"It still doesn't change the fact that we've got to look after this thing," Dean said. "But what the hell are we gonna do with it? We can't actually drop it off at an orphanage. They might get upset when it turns Asian."

"Samuel," Sam said. It was clear from his tone he already knew it.

"What?" Dean asked.

"Samuel," Sam repeated. "He'll know what to do."

 _You want to bring it to a bunch of hunters?_ I asked.

"They're not just hunters," Sam replied. "They're our family."

"We don't know them," Dean said.

"I do," Sam said. "And Baby Doll met them."

 _I guess we don't really have a choice, do we?_ I asked. _Just get there already so I can get home and forget this day even happened._

* * *

The sun was setting by the time we reached the Campbell's house. Parking the car, Sam walked out of it, followed closely by Dean, who was looking around, and me, holding the baby tight to my chest.

"Hand him over," Dean said.

 _Not until I know he's safe,_ I replied, following Sam into the house.

"Where's the baby?" Samuel asked, looking between Sam and Dean.

"Baby Doll's got him," Dean replied.

"Baby Doll?" Samuel repeated. "The Child of Creation Baby Doll? She's not really right on the head, you know."

 _Nice to see you, too,_ I said sarcastically, causing him to look around in surprise.

"I guess I should add this to the list of things I didn't know you could do," he muttered.

 _I'm full of surprises, Samuel._

"Well, let me see the little guy," Samuel said, looking around for me. "Relax. Nothing's gonna happen to him."

Hesitantly, I walked forward and passed Bobby-John to his arms. As we touched, he became invisible and I knew he could see and hear me.

"Try anything and I'll rip your head off," I threatened.

"Lovely to see you as ever, Diana," he replied, stepping back and out of my reach. "Hey, there," he told the baby. "Oh, you're a big fella, aren't you? I haven't held one of these in a long time. Your mom was the tiniest. She was bald as a cue ball."

"All right," Dean said. "So what the hell are we gonna do with him?"

"Raise him," Samuel said simply.

"Raise him?" Dean repeated.

 _From experience, these things don't end well,_ I said.

"What, you got another suggestion?" Samuel questioned. "It's dangerous out there for him, Dean."

"And what about in here?" Dean asked. "What, are we gonna study him, poke at him?"

"Your mind goes right to torture, Dean," Christian, one of the other hunters, said. "Don't assume that for everyone."

 _Stop the macho,_ I ordered, _we've got bigger problems on our hands._

"Christian," Samuel said.

"Yeah?" the man replied, looking away from Dean.

"You and Arlene - still no luck on the baby front?"

"Not yet, no," Christian replied.

"But you want one?" Samuel questioned.

"Yeah, we do," Christian said, obviously bemused at the question.

 _Congrats,_ I said. _It's a boy. Sometimes._

Christian shook his head as he held the baby. "The crap I do for this family."

"You're kidding, right?" Dean asked.

"Shut up, Dean," Christian muttered, smiling at the small child he held in his hands.

"Well, you have no business raising anything," Dean went on.

"Why, Dean?" Sam asked. "Cause he's a hunter?"

Dean's reply was interrupted by barking outside the house.

"Check the back door," Samuel ordered.

 _Give me the baby,_ I told Christian.

"What?" he asked. "No – Hey!" he called out as I grabbed the baby from his arms.

Sam and Dean headed down to the panic room so I dropped the façade and looked at him, visible to his eyes.

"I lost one baby just because people had a problem with what she was," I said harshly. "I'm not letting that number go up."

And with that, I headed down to the panic room after my brothers.

* * *

 _"Did you know?"_

 _Sam and Dean were driving down the dark lane back to Lisa and Ben's house. I was dreaming for quite a while now, but it was the first time either of them uttered a word out._

 _I couldn't quite remember what had happened after the Alpha Shapeshifter arrived, but I did know I was currently curled up on the passenger seat of Rossi's car as he drove back to Virginia, full of promises to bring me to Spencer so we could go to a meeting, but also wanting explanations I wasn't ready to provide._

 _"Know what?" Sam asked, not taking his eyes off the road._

 _"Know that Baby Doll… this Child of Creation chick lost her daughter," Dean said._

 _"I did," Sam replied after a short pause._

 _"And you didn't think it might be a bad idea to make her babysit a baby?" Dean asked. "I mean, she friggin lost it back there. Started mumbling weird things about some Jennifer before handing Bobby John to the Alpha."_

 _"She's troubled," Sam shrugged. "She needed to forget – she called me a couple of days ago, asking me if I had a case she could work on. Besides, she knows how to handle a baby. We don't."_

 _"How close are you with her?" Dean questioned._

 _"We met a couple of times during the year you lived with Ben and Lisa," Sam said. "Mostly, it was small updates, or sending us cases she found but couldn't work on. She's got quite the reputation for killing demons and angels, although she stopped looking for the latter."_

 _"Yeah, but what's her story?" Dean asked._

 _Sam sighed. "Do you remember when we were back in 1978, and she refused to join Michael?" he asked my twin._

 _"Yeah," Dean said, before a thought crossed his mind. "Was she teamed with Lucifer?"_

 _"No," Sam said shortly. "She was teamed with us. Do you remember Team Free Will? They killed her daughter because she wouldn't pick a side."_

 _"Damn," Dean muttered. "I feel kinda sorry for her." His eyes lit up as he remembered something. "David Rossi, the guy who came to pick her up… she talked about him when we were back in 1978."_

 _"Yeah," Sam said. "He used to be a friend of Mom's, right?"_

 _"I think so," Dean said. "So what do we know about Baby Doll? She knows an old friend of Mom's – knows him well enough so that if someone called him in the middle of the night to come pick her up, he'd come."_

 _"She was also friends with Chuck and Gabriel," Sam added. "And there were the two guys who came to pick her up after Cas died the first time around, I think one of them used to be her husband."_

 _"Used to be?" Dean repeated._

 _"He died the night they killed her child."_

 _"She was there when we fought Pestilence," Dean said. "And she's got – or at least, used to have – a thing with Cas." He was silent for a couple of moments. "That's it? That's all we know about her?"_

 _"She's keeping to herself," Sam shrugged._

 _"Well, we need to find out more," Dean said determinedly. "She definitely sounds like someone we need in our corner."_

 _"Honestly," Sam said, "I think she already is."_

* * *

 **Please reviwe!**


	5. Give You Everything

**A/N:** **Proud to say that I finally stopped procrastinating and finished this chapter :)**

 **I was realy waiting to do this SPN episode (Appointment In Samara) but it took me a while longer to decide what CM episode I'm combining into it (Corazon). A bit of a time-leap with Supernatural since I had to catch up to the Criminal Minds time, so let's just pretend the BAU worked a bunch of cases the show never showed us during that time, shall we?**

 **Disclaimer: I do ont own Supernatural or Criminal Minds.**

* * *

 **"To the well-organized mind,  
Death is but the next great adventure."  
J.K. Rowling, ****_Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_**

A year ago:

 _"I need your help," Castiel told me one night, after appearing in the cabin and spending two hours enjoying the reunion after over a month of not seeing each other. "I have an issue and I need… guidance."_

 _"Tell me about it," I offered, drawing trails on his bare chest. "I'll see if I can help, or at least call someone who might be able to help."_

 _"You can't tell anyone of this," he warned, capturing my hand and forcing me to look at him. "Not if I refuse to the help I'm being offered and definitely not if I accept it."_

 _"What help?" I asked, realizing I'm losing track of the conversation._

 _"You won't like it," he said._

 _"Probably," I shrugged. "But I also don't like you fighting that war in Heaven. If someone could help, we shouldn't outright overrule it."_

 _"Even if it's a demon?" he questioned._

 _"Depends on which demon," I growled, thinking of all of those on my black list – all of those who were there the night Jenna died._

 _"Crowley."_

At least he's not on the list, _I thought to myself._ On the other hand…

 _"What help can he provide?" I asked carefully._

 _"After Lucifer was trapped back in the cage, and with Alistair, Azazel and Lilith all gone, he had apparently become the new King of Hell," Cas explained. "He had offered me a deal including the souls in purgatory, but I'm unsure…"_

 _"Not everything is black and white, Cas," I mumbled. "Sometimes, you have to cross the line to the grays in order to achieve actual results. God knows Raphael is doing just that – and worse."_

 _"That is just what I am afraid of," he admitted. "I do not want to be like him. All he knows is death. That, and obedience. I want to show the other angels peace, and free will."_

 _"That is all that matters," I said. "Your goal is noble enough for that. Pure enough for a little grey."_

 _"Are you saying that the end justify the means?" he questioned, his bows furrowing in concern._

 _"No," I replied. "I'm saying that as long as you take the right precautions, set the right limits in the agreement between you and Crowley, the means will be such that you won't have to justify them."_

 _"How will I make certain that I don't cross the line?" Castiel asked, wrapping his arm around me. I could feel his worry in our connection over the fact that I heard it in his voice._

 _"Don't be like that, honey," I said, curling closer to him. "I'm here just for that."_

* * *

I was done with collecting all of the ingredients I needed and moved on to security my apartment. A small voice at the back of my head was screaming at me that this was a bad idea, but I skillfully shoved it away and finished the Devil's trap I was drawing on the floor.

When I finished, I put the bowl in the middle of the room, lighting a match and throwing it inside as I waited for the ritual to complete.

"Come on," I muttered. "I know you felt it, just come here, you great –"

"Are you sure you want to finish that sentence?" a British accented voice asked from behind me, and I fought the urge to growl. "Pardon me for ignoring everything you planned, but I quite prefer myself to stay _outside_ Devil's Traps if I have a choice on the matter."

"Crowley," I greeted. "Excuse me for skipping the pleasantries, but I have a lot on my mind at the moment, and would rather not to waste my time pretending I cared."

"Charming as always, I see," Crowley said. "How's your little angel lover?"

"For your sakes, I hope he's quite alright," I replied. "After all, without him your plans for purgatory are doomed."

"Apparently he's got quite a big mouth, though," Crowley said. "Seeing as we both have other things to do, and neither of us seems to be very beneficial of this conversation so far, let's skip right to it. What do you want?"

"As hard as it is for me to admit it," I said, "I need your help."

"Do you want little Sammy's soul back?" he asked. "Because I already told your brothers and Cas – I don't have it. It's trapped deep, deep inside the cage and there's no way I can get it out."

"I know," I said. "By what I heard, you had to fake your own death because of it."

"Lover boy should really learn to shut his mouth," Crowley muttered. "So is it about Dean? You want his safety guaranteed or, at least, his girlfriend and her kid's safety?"

"Dean can handle himself," I replied simply, though a small heartache started to form at the realization it never even crossed my mind.

"So what _do_ you want?" Crowley questioned. "If you'd called me a couple of months earlier, I would be certain it was about your dear Uncle Bobby, but you seemed oblivion to him."

"Not oblivion," I corrected. "Certain that he is capable of handling himself."

"So what is it?" he asked. "Because, to be honest with you, this conversation is starting to get on my nerves."

"Emily Prentiss."

An odd smile crossed Crowley's face. "I remember her," he said. "January 2001. She had a dying child with her and sold her soul to save him. I don't understand the logic of it, but I don't usually ask questions."

"You appear, you make the deal, you go away," I said.

"Exactly," he agreed. "Which brings up the question, what deal do you offer?"

"A return of a favor," I said.

"A favor?" he asked. "And what favor do I owe you?"

"Without me, Castiel wouldn't have agreed to help you," I said. "You'd be having ten times the difficulties you now have. Not to mention that if Cas wasn't on your side, you'd have been dead right now."

"So you take credit on your boyfriend's actions?"

"I was the one who convinced him this was a good idea," I insisted. "And I didn't gain anything from it."

"Didn't you?" he questioned.

"You claim I did?" I asked.

"All I say is that it would have been amazingly convenient for you to take actions that will cause Raphael's death," Crowley said, and my heart skipped a beat. "After all, he's at the top of that little list of yours, from what I've heard."

"How do you know that?" I asked. "I never told anyone who killed Jenna."

"I have my ways," Crowley said. "Rumors travel awfully fast where I come from."

"What's your point?" I asked.

"You have nothing to offer me," he said. "You have nothing I want, and I owe you nothing you can use. There is nothing you can do right now to save your little friend unless you go and cry to your boyfriend about the mean demon who hurt you, and we both know you have way too much pride for that."

"You son of a bitch."

"I'd very much like to make a deal with you," he said. "Just, for future reference, make sure you actually have something to offer before wasting my time."

I fell down on the couch, my eyes closing in shame and despair. The sound of my ringtone caused me to open my eyes, and I already knew Crowley was gone. I looked at the caller ID to see it was Garcia. For a moment, I considered ignoring the call so I won't have to face Prentiss and admit to her I've got nothing, but my conscious didn't let me do that.

"Chess."

* * *

The team were sitting in the briefing room, waiting for Garcia to come and brief us about the case we were supposed to work on. I was trying my best to avoid Emily's stare, and was hoping that she didn't think it too odd.

"Are you okay?" I asked Spence as he walked into the room.

"Yeah," he replied quickly. "Why?"

"You're never late," Prentiss noted.

"Have we started the briefing yet?" he questioned.

"Just about to," Garcia replied.

"Then I'm not late."

"Attention, intrepid BAU adventurers," Garcia said, changing the topic of the conversation before anybody could say another thing. "The land of Bermuda shorts, white leisure suits, and sansabelt slacks requests your presence."

"Vegas?" Rossi asked.

"Arizona," Morgan said.

"Palm Springs," Prentiss suggested.

"Isn't it Miami?" I asked, causing Garcia to smile brightly at me.

"That was what I was going to say," she said, "but point well made about the dizzying number of locales with unfortunate fashion tendencies. Here we go," she added, as pictures filled the screen.

"Shells in the eyes and mouth," Prentiss said. "You don't see that every day."

"Not even in Miami," Rossi added.

"Three victims," Garcia went on. "Last one found with –"

"A decapitated cat?" I asked, curious. "There's too many places to start here."

"Hold that thought while I tell you they were all were found within a mile of each other in a mostly Latino neighborhood in Miami called Allapattah," Garcia said. "Eduardo Guzman, homeless. He was shot to death 7 days ago. Yanira Espinal, prostitute, bludgeoned to death and then Victor Cabrera, he was an unemployed janitor. He was slashed with a machete yesterday, as was his cat."

"You know," Rossi said, "considering the homeless man lived in that alley, all of the victims essentially were killed in their homes."

"This took some time," Morgan said, looking at one of the victims.

"In the open," Hotch added.

"You know, cowrie shells and ritual offerings are common to a number of Afro-Caribbean religions," Reid said.

"But the upside-down cross looks like Satanism," I said.

"The first two victims had fingers missing," Morgan said, "but on this one, he took both hands."

"All of this could have been religious?" Seaver asked, looking mildly disgusted.

"This could have specific religious meaning or it could just be part of the Unsub's signature," I replied.

"Either way, his timetable's accelerating," Hotch said. "We have a day, maybe 2, before the Miami PD has another body on its hands. Take off in fifteen."

"Spence!" I said quickly as everyone gathered their things and headed towards the exit. I sent a quick look at Prentiss before asking, "Coming with me?"

"Uh, okay," he said, twitching slightly as he looked at me, his eyes slightly closed, before following me outside. "Can we take my car?" he asked, eyeing Darlin suspiciously.

"No problem," I said. "But you are in no state to be driving."

When all he did was nod and sit in the passenger seat, I knew something was undoubtedly wrong.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Nothing," he said. "I just have these… headaches. I did a CT today, I'm waiting for the results."

"It will probably pass in a day or two," I said, attempting to help him calm down.

"It's been a day or two," he muttered, putting on his sunglasses.

"That bad, eh?" I asked. "Don't worry. I'm sure it's –"

 _"No pulse," a female voice said, "no sinus rhythm."_

 _"He's dead," a male voice added._

 _I walked forwards a couple of steps, moving against my will as I looked at my brother's dead body. My lips moved to say, "Good times," in Dean's voice, and I wondered what was going on._

 _Dean walked downstairs and stood in the middle of what seemed to be a shop in China Town._

 _"This better work," he muttered, before adding, "_ _ **Messorum evoco qui me tetigit.**_ _"_

 _"Dean?" the voice of Tessa, one of the few reapers my brother knew, said. "What the hell?"_

 _"What do you know?" Dean muttered. "It worked."_

 _"I was in the Sudan! What's with yanking me ov –" she paused for a moment and looked at him. "Wait, why are you dead?"_

 _"Tessa, I need a favor," Dean quickly said._

 _"Oh, you're kidding," Tessa said, extremely pissed off. "You died to ask me –"_

 _"Tell your boss I need to talk to him."_

 _Tessa's eyes widened. "No."_

 _"Please?" Dean all but begged._

 _"Where do you get the nerve?" she questioned._

 _"Desperate times," Dean shrugged._

 _"He calls us," Tessa said. "We don't call him."_

 _"You make an exception!" Dean called._

 _"I can't," she insisted._

 _"Can't or won't?" he questioned._

 _"Both!"_

 _"All right, Tessa," a cold, familiar voice said and Dean's head turned to look at Death. "Thank you very much." He looked at my brother with his usual mask of indifference. "Hello, Dean." When my brother didn't reply, he sighed. "I'm busy, Dean. Talk fast."_

 _"I have something of yours," Dean said._

 _"You mean my ring?" Death questioned. "I recall loaning you that temporarily."_

 _"Well, if you want it back –"_

 _"I'm sorry," Death said, seeming almost amused. "You assume that I don't know where you've hidden it. Now that we've established you have hubris but no leverage, what is it you want?"_

 _"Lucifer's cage," Dean said. "I figure you're one of the few people that can actually jailbreak it."_

 _"Do you?" Death questioned._

 _"Sam's soul is stuck in that box," Dean went on._

 _"I've heard."_

 _"And our other brother is trapped in there, too," Dean said. "Michael rode him in."_

 _"Dean, quit shuffling and deal," Death said, annoyance clear in his voice._

 _"I want you to get 'em both out."_

 _Death looked thoughtful for a moment before replying. "Pick one."_

 _"What?" Dean asked._

 _"Sam's soul," Death said, "or Adam's."_

 _"But –"_

 _"As a rule, I don't bring people back," Death explained. "I have already been forced to make one exception for your family. I might make one more, not two. So… Pick."_

 _"Sam," Dean said, with little to no hesitation. "His soul has been in there for a year, and I understand that it's… Damaged."_

 _"Try flayed to the raw nerve," Death said._

 _"Well, is there any way that you could, I don't know, hack the hell part off?"_

 _"Dean, Dean, Dean," Death said with a sigh, standing up and walking towards Tessa. "What do you think the soul is? Some pie you can slice? The soul can be bludgeoned, tortured, but never broken." He paused for a moment, before adding, "Not even by me."_

 _"Well, there's got to be something," Dean said._

 _"Maybe," Death said thoughtfully. "I can't erase Sam's hell, but I can… Put it behind a wall, if you will."_

 _"A wall," Dean repeated._

 _"In his mind," Death explained further. "A dam to hold back the tide. Nasty, those memories. You don't want to know what they'll do to him. Believe me."_

 _"Okay, a wall," Dean said. "Sounds good."_

 _"But it's not permanent," Tessa said._

 _"She's right," Death nodded. "Nothing lasts forever. Well, I do, but…"_

 _"Okay, so that's the choice?" Dean asked. "Sam with no soul, or Sam with some drywall that if or when it collapses, he's done?"_

 _"Yes," Death said simply._

 _"Do it," Dean said._

 _"I never said I'd do it," Death said._

 _"Well, then what the hell have we been talking about?" Dean asked._

 _"Your prize," Death drawled. "If you win the wager."_

 _"Great," Dean muttered sarcastically. "What's the bet?"_

 _"Don't roll your eyes, Dean," Death said. "It's impolite. Now, when you fetch my ring, put it on."_

 _"What?" Dean asked._

 _"I want you to be me for one day," Death informed him._

 _"Are you serious?" Dean asked._

 _"No, I'm being incredibly sarcastic." Death sighed again. "Take the ring off before the 24 hours are up, and you lose. No soul for Sam. Clear?"_

 _"Okay," Dean said bitterly. "Yes. But… But why?"_

 _"Simple, Dean," Death said. "Because –"_

"Diana!" Reid called in my ear. "Diana, wake up!"

My eyes opened wide and my vision blurred for a moment as Spencer let out a sigh of relief next to me.

"What the hell just happened?" he asked.

"I… don't know," I admitted.

"You don't know?" he asked. "Chessi, you were dead for almost four minutes!"

"I… Dead?" I asked. "No, I… I need to… Dean."

"What?" he asked.

"I gotta go," I muttered. "Tell Hotch I… I'll be in touch. Or maybe I won't."

And with that, I jumped out of the car and started running towards my apartment.

* * *

"So, let me get this straight," Death said, overly annoyed with the fact that not one, but _two_ Winchesters had requested to talk with him on the same day. "You want to fill in Dean's part of the bet?"

"Please," I begged. "I know you probably want to teach him a lesson – but please let me do this."

"Why?"

"Because he's Dean," I replied. "And there's no way he will be able to do it."

Ten hours ago, that conversation seemed like the best idea I ever had. Well, maybe not the _best_ but a proper solution for it all. Death fills out his part of the deal, Sam gets his soul back and Dean won't have to suffer any guilt feelings.

The only one who would have to deal with the aftermath will be me, and I was certain I was up to it.

I was wrong.

I lost count after about three hours. Between the robber at the grocery store, the man who died of a heart attack and – one of the hardest things I ever had to do – the cancer sick little girl, I was more than utterly exhausted.

Now, with fourteen more hours to go, I was standing in the middle of a small room, while the Unsub at the investigation I was working on was sacrificing another victim, this time one with a dog, rather than a cat.

"I don't suppose I will be allowed to use that knowledge later, will I?" I asked, taking notes of the pigeon blood used in the ritual and scowling at the fact that the Unsub's face were covered.

"I don't see why not," Tessa said, looking at the murderer with almost as much hatred in her eyes as there was in my own. "I mean, I get it that people have to die – that's essentially my job – but why does he have to kill the pigeon and dog? I mean, that's just cruel."

"You know," I said, thinking that there might have been a hint of a laugh on my lips I any other situation, "in another circumstances, I think we may have been friends."

"Maybe," Tessa said, not even blinking as the Unsub killed who now became his fourth victim using a machete and I touched him to make it complete. "Come," she told him, taking him by the hand and talking to him soothingly as she helped him move on.

"The FBI will catch him," I told him right before he vanished, and he offered me a small, sad smile. "Who's next on the list?"

"You're not gonna like it," she warned me.

"I don't have much of a choice, do I?" I asked, and we appeared in a Hospital.

I took a moment to try to understand the situation we were in the middle of, but as I looked around me, all coherent thoughts erased themselves from my mind.

"No," I whispered. "No. You can't… you can't ask me to do this."

"I knew this would be how you react, which is why I brought us here early," Tessa said. "It has to be done."

"I don't care if it has to be done!" I called, looking away from the baby that slept peacefully in one of the beds. He couldn't have been more than six months old. "Why do _I_ have to be the one to do it?"

"Because that's what the boss decided," Tessa shrugged. "Honestly, I thought you'd break when we reached the girl with the cancer. I know for a fact Dean would have."

"I…" I muttered, suddenly in the desperate need for air. "I don't…"

"You're smart, Diana," Tessa said, her voice suddenly more relaxed – more understanding. More the way it was when she talked to the dead. "You work with death on a daily basis. You've seen it all."

"But if I do it…" I took a deep breath. "If I'm the one that does it, how am I any better than all of the killers we put behind bars? How am I any better than the Unsub we just saw?"

"Because you didn't decide to kill," Tessa said. "More than that, even. You don't want to do this. You do it because you have to."

"What if I won't?" I asked.

"Excuse me?"

"What if I decide that I won't do it?" I repeated. "What if I refuse to kill the baby?"

"Then the natural order will break," Tessa said. "If you decide to keep even one baby alive, it can result with dozens of deaths. Do you want to be responsible for that? Is one life worth more than so many other people – people was lives, families?"

"It's just a baby," I whispered. "He hadn't done anything wrong. He didn't even get a chance to live."

"And it's sad," Tessa acknowledged, "but that's just how the world works."

I nodded, understanding starting to dawn on me. "Can I have a moment?" I asked and she nodded, leaving me alone next to the small baby. I looked around to see if the mother was anywhere around and when I saw she wasn't, I sat down next to him.

"Hey, little one," I said. "You're going to go somewhere better soon. I guess you don't really love all of the noise in here, do you?" I sighed. "I just wanted to tell you, before you go away, that no matter where she is your mommy loves you very much. She would have told you herself if she was here, but just because I'm saying this for her doesn't make it any less true."

I took a deep breath before brushing my hand on the baby's cheek and walking away. I knew that the doctors will try to save him now, and that Tessa will walk in to take care of his soul, but I didn't want to see it.

Walking out of the hospital, I looked to the sky.

"Alright!" I called. "You won! Happy now?"

"There is no need to scream," Death said calmly, appearing next to me. "I see you still have my ring."

"Take it," I said. "I don't care what the cost is, I can't do this anymore. I give up."

"I must admit, you lasted longer than I thought you would," Death told me. "Then again, I shouldn't really be surprised from the Child of Creation now, do I?"

"I give up," I said. "I don't have the power for your snarky comments. I just killed a baby!"

"You didn't kill him," Death said. "He was to die no matter what."

"Doesn't make me feel any better," I muttered.

"So," Death said, "what's next?"

"What do you mean what's next?" I asked. "You take your ring back, I go back to my team and Sam remains soulless."

"I don't think so," Death informed me. "You see, while you were playing, well, me, your soulless brother nearly committed patricide on Mr. Singer."

"What?" I asked, scared.

"They are both quite fine, I assure you," Death said. "But Sam is too dangerous to stay that way."

"So what?" I questioned bitterly. "Are you going to kill him?"

"Quite the opposite, actually," Death said. "I'm going to give him his soul back."

I turned my head to look at him, not even attempting at concealing the shock and gratitude in my eyes.

"Will hugging you be too much?"

"Don't even try."

* * *

 _"Now, Sam, I'm gonna put up a barrier inside your mind," Death said._

 _"No," Sam told him. "Don't touch me."_

 _"It might feel a little… Itchy," Death went on. "But do me a favor – don't scratch the wall. Because, trust me, you're not gonna like what happens."_

"Do you do this often?" Crowley asked, distracting me from Sam's screams as Death put his soul back into him. "Spying on your brothers while invisible," he explained.

"More often than I'd care to admit allowed," I replied. "You?"

"Not as often as I would like," he said. "I thought about your offer," he added.

"I thought there was no offer to think about," I commented.

"There wasn't," Crowley admitted. "At least, not until I remembered a fun little fact I once heard about your relationship with the now deceased Gabriel."

"You want me to owe you one," I concluded.

"Precisely," he said. "You owe me one favor, at my pick, and in return your friend gets her soul back, good as new."

I took a deep breath while I thought about my options, considering the advantages and disadvantaged of every one of the possibilities.

"One year," I finally said.

"Pardon?"

"You've got one year to collect your favor," I said. "One year, and at the end of the year, I owe you nothing and Prentiss still holds her soul."

"Only on the condition that you can't refuse," Crowley said. "If – or, more likely, when – I come to collect, you do as I say. No arguments."

"I draw the line at hurting my family," I said. "Teammates included."

"Line drawn," Crowley agreed. "So, do we have a deal?"

"We have a deal," I nodded. "Any chance you give me a lift to Miami?"

He rolled his eyes but agreed nonetheless, teleporting me one block away from the police station the team worked in. I walked inside, trying my best not to appear as shaken as I felt as my team looked at me with surprise.

"Are you alright?" Hotch asked, sadly already used to me disappearing without notice.

"I'm fine," I replied.

"Gonna tell us where you were?" Rossi asked.

"I had some…" I looked at Prentiss. "I had some things to take care of." I tore my eyes from her relieved face as I looked at my team members. "Any of you thought to check if there was any other types of blood at the scenes?" I asked. "Like, let's say, a pigeon?"


	6. Come Together

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or Criminal Minds.**

 **Special Chapter Addition: This chapter is half-based on _The French Mistake_. Now, my character - Diana - looks very much like Katherine Heigl (That's how I picture her in my head), so I'm going to borrow  the name of said actress for the sakes of this chapter. Just to make it clear, my character is _not_ Catherine Heigl. This is _not_ real people fiction. She just... Doesn't bother to correct people when they think she's her.**

* * *

 **"Most people gaze neither into the future nor the past;  
They explore neither truth nor lies.  
They gaze at the television."  
Radiohead.**

I was sitting in the park, carefully observing the scene that took place in front of me while pretending to read a newspaper. Prentiss was sitting by the fountain, a cellphone in her hand as she talked into it, watching around her to make sure nobody was coming for her.

She was talking to a woman named Tsia Mosely, who was sitting next to one of the tables not far away from her. At a similar distance from the two of them stood another man who, according to all of the research I have made in both the FBI and the Interpol databases was named Clyde Easter.

I knew better.

Emily was the first out of the three of them to hang up. I felt a buzz in my pocket, and knew without looking it was a message about a case, as Prentiss pulled her own phone out, and looked at the screen before muttering something to the other two and ending the call, throwing her cellphone to a nearby garbage bin.

The man and woman followed in a similar manner and as soon as Easter walked away and out of the two women's sight, I approached him.

"Hello, Clyde," I said casually when I finally reached him, noting the way he kept walking and was barely looking at me.

"Do I know you?" he asked, a tone of indifference to his voice.

"No," I replied. "I don't believe we've met in person, though we do have more than a few mutual acquaintances."

"You know Emily?"

"I do," I told him. "And I've worked very, _very_ hard to keep her alive which is why I don't very much appreciate you lying to her. Then again," I sighed, "Balthazar is _such_ a mouthful."

He paused, looking at me with an intrigued glance.

"You're the Winchester girl," he stated.

"I go by Chess nowadays," I said coldly.

"The Child of Creation," he noted.

"Again, Chess is fine," I muttered.

"You're the one who freed Emily off her contract."

"Are you just gonna keep stating facts?" I asked. "Or are you planning to start an actual conversation any time soon?"

"What do you want?" he asked.

"To keep Emily safe," I said simply.

"In that case," he drawled, "we have a mutual goal."

"I don't think we do," I mused. "There is so much more going on right now and from what I know about you – and I know quite a lot – your first priority is to keep _yourself_ alive, at all costs."

"Not at all costs," he said. "I want to catch Doyle."

"Which would save you, as well, and you are willing to do it at all costs," I added.

"As long as he's free, neither of us is safe," he said. "Not me, not Emily, not even you and your team."

"So it's settled," I said. "Your priorities are catching Doyle, staying alive and, if I'm not mistaken, defeating Raphael." He nodded curtly as I went on. "My priorities are catching Doyle, keeping my team and family alive and defeating Raphael."

"Where does your own safety come into it?" he asked.

"Wherever it needs to be to make sure those goals are accomplished," I replied.

"And, if I may ask, where does dear Castiel comes into it?" Balthazar questioned.

I looked at my watch, seeing I had to start heading back towards Quantico if I wanted to be there on time for briefing.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" I asked before turning my back at him and walking towards the spot where I parked my motor.

* * *

The case involved getting an autistic 10-year-old who was the only witness to a supposed homicide in his home that morning to talk. We were on the jet, heading towards Lafayette Parish, Louisiana when Seaver made the mistake of asking a stupid question about Doctor Who.

"Is that the one where they fly around in the phone booth?" she asked.

"First of all," I said, "it's a police box, not a phone booth."

"Second of all," Reid went on, "Doctor Who started a quarter of a century before Bill and Ted even went on their bodacious adventure."

"So, really, they should have just called it 'Bill and Ted's Excellent Rip-Off'," I said bitterly. "I mean, at least then –"

"I'm really sorry," Seaver muttered.

"For what?" Spence asked, confused.

"Asking."

"Good morning, Angels," Garcia said, appearing on the computer screen and Reid and I headed to our seats, him supporting a pout and myself attempting not to burst out in laughter. "New information to report. The blood at the crime scene matched type to Charlie Sparks, so we can assume that he is the injured party."

"Well," Morgan said, looking at the casefile, "shell casings by the door says he was shot. Are we looking at a robbery gone wrong?"

"No robber would break into a family residence before the start of school and not expect to find people home," I muttered, ignoring Reid's elbow at my ribs that indicated he knew I was talking from experience.

"No," Prentiss agreed. "I think he came for Charlie and Alison Sparks."

"He planned the abduction and then gained entry to the house," Hotch said.

"But the scene is frenzied," Rossi noted. "Disorganized. He didn't think it through."

"I hate to say it, but could Sammy be our Unsub?" Seaver questioned.

"I don't think so," I said. "What's the number one motive of kidnapping?"

"Financial gain," she said in understanding.

"Yeah, well, if that's the case, they are barking up the wrong money tree," Garcia informed us. "The family runs a music store that's been Sparks owned since the 1940s, but business is down and a loan against the house is the only thing keeping that store afloat."

"The Unsub should have done his research," Rossi said.

"Well, he may have," Prentiss said. "This area was devastated by the oil spill. A little bit of money would go a long way here."

"Well," I said as I was looking through the things in the room that belonged to Sammy – the witness. "The kid definitely likes to draw."

"But I can't quite figure out what it is he's drawing," Morgan said, picking up one of the pictures.

"That's a dog," Hotch and I said simultaneously.

"How can you possibly know that that looks like a dog?" Morgan questioned.

"I don't know," Hotch shrugged.

"A parent knows," was all I said.

"Well, I didn't see a dog outside," Morgan said as Hotch moved closer to the dresser and started observing the objects that lay on top of it. "Did you?"

"They use these for occupational therapy," Hotch said, picking up one of the objects, "but they're soft."

"Those things are expensive, too," I noted.

"That's a favorite," Hotch said, marking at a small train on the bed. "I think we should get this to Reid. He may be able to use it to connect with Sammy."

We headed back to the local police station, explaining our findings in the house to Reid who sighed.

"I'm not sure how we're going to get through to him," he admitted. "Sammy's teacher says he's never even been able to return his own mother's hug."

"Garcia, what have you got?" Prentiss asked.

"I wish I could be more help," Garcia told us through the speaker. "If this is about money, it would be a hell of a lot easier for me to give you a list of people who wouldn't need it, and I'd probably save a forest in the process." She sighed before continuing. "Due to the spill, fisherman and fishing-related industries have been hit the worst."

"Sheriff, was it common knowledge that the Sparks had gotten this loan?" Hotch asked.

"I knew," Sheriff Oliver replied. "A loan around here is like winning the lottery."

"So why no ransom note?" I asked.

"Maybe the unsub thinks he can get the money directly from the source," Morgan suggested. "Cut out the middleman."

"You think he'll use one of the parents as leverage to get the other to clear out their accounts," Seaver concluded.

"He's already shot Charlie," Spencer said. "It shouldn't be that hard to manipulate Alison into doing what he wants if he offers medical assistance in exchange."

"I think he just did," Garcia muttered.

"What have you got?" I asked.

"I froze the Sparks' assets earlier today, but someone at the Bayside Branch one parish over just managed to withdraw ten thousand dollars from their joint savings account."

"Call the branch," Hotch ordered. "It they're still there, don't let them leave."

"We're probably too late," Prentiss noted.

"If the unsub has what he's after," Rossi said with a sigh, "Sammy's parents just became expendable."

* * *

Later that night, I was sitting in the kitchen of the police station, trying to wrap my mind around the case. Nothing about it seemed to make sense and we were no closer to finding the kidnapper than we were that morning.

From what I knew about gunshot wounds, the odds that Charlie Sparks was still alive was growing thin by the second.

"Are you okay?" Spencer asked, walking in and sitting next to me.

"I'll tell you when I know," I replied.

He smiled bitterly, putting his arm on mine. I sighed, letting the touch relax me before my vision blurred and I closed my eyes against the headache it was giving me.

When they opened, moments later, I found myself standing in what appeared to be a filming set for a film or a TV series, people I have never met before running around me and calling out shooting orders as the sun blinded my eyes.

I was looking around me, trying to understand where I was. From my past experience with these things, it probably involved my brothers and I wouldn't be able to go back home until they cleaned up after their mess.

"Kathy!" the director called. "Kathy!"

A hand touched my shoulder, causing me to jump in fear, only to see it was one of the director assistants.

"Robert's calling you," he said, marking at where the director was standing. "Kathy, come here!" he said.

Seeing as I didn't have any other option, I walked towards him, making up my mind to pretend I was this 'Kathy', whoever she was.

"Glad you could make it," the man – Robert – said. "I know we still got a couple of episodes until the season finale, but I wanted you to start meeting the cast already."

"The season finale?" I repeated.

"Yeah," he nodded. "You know, Diana's big reunion with her brothers. Although I might do it on the next season's premier."

"Reunion?" I muttered.

"Anyway, I wanted you to start working on your character with Misha." He waved his hand and one of the men started heading our direction. "The two of you already have some scenes together, so I thought it would be a good start."

"What?" I asked. "I –"

"Hey, Katherine," a voice said. "Haven't seen you in a while."

I turned around to see Castiel watching at me.

"But…" I muttered. "You…"

"You and Misha will go through some scenes together, from the year Sam was in the Cage," Robert said, and Cas – Misha? – nodded. "You've got a break for now, since we'll be filming with the boys soon, so take the time to relax."

"Okay, I need to get ready for the scene," Misha said as soon as Robert was gone. "I'll meet with you after that, but take the time to remember how things are going on around here."

"Remember…?" It seemed that I was unable to do anything that included working my brain at that moment.

"I know we haven't filed together since the season 5 finale, but things really haven't changed so much," he finished, turning around and leaving me even more confused than I was before.

I wandered around for an hour or so, trying to understand where I was and, almost as importantly, why I was there. From what I managed to understand, I was trapped in some limbo zone where my brothers' lives were a TV show called "Supernatural", and I was an actress names Katherine Heigl.

Apparently, my alter ego – or whatever she was – appeared in a ridiculous amount of Romance Comedies, in addition to another show named Criminal Minds, which appeared to be about my team.

"Shemar Moore?" I muttered in disbelief as I watched the names that appeared on the computer screen. "Joe Mantegna? Kirsten Vangsness?"

"Kathy!" the director's voice called once again and I looked up. "Come here, I want you to meet the boys!"

 _The boys?_ I wondered. _But that must means… no._

I tried making myself invisible, as it was an automatic response by then, and cursed silently when I saw it didn't work.

"Katherine Heigl," I muttered to myself. "You're Katherine Heigl."

"Come here," Robert said with a smile, turning to look at my brothers. "Boys, I'm not sure if you remember –"

"Dee?" Sam whispered.

"Katherine," I introduced myself, hoping for everything that they believed the faux. "Katherine Heigl."

"These are Jensen and Jared," Robert said. "But you probably know that already. Katherine will join us for the season finale," he told them, and I silently cursed. "And she'll probably be a recurring character next season."

"Recurring character?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, you know, like Misha," Robert said. "She shows up in a lot of episodes, but not in them all."

"Yeah," Sam mumbled. "Right."

"Well, the two of you should probably start shooting," I said. "I'd hate to interrupt."

"Stay to watch," Robert offered. "After all, you're going to start being a part of the Supernatural family soon."

"Sure," I said, planting a fake smile on my lips to hide the lie. "Looking forwards to it."

* * *

That night, things went terribly wrong.

I spent the night at the trailer that was marked _K. Heigl_ , hoping that by the morning the boys will manage to find a way to get us all back to our own world. It was strange for me to sleep so far away from the team, as I was so used to either sharing a room with Spencer or falling asleep with Castiel's warm body next to me that I barely had any sleep.

I walked out of the trailer to get myself something to drink, only to find out Misha was murdered. Minutes later, I found myself standing in the crime scene and heading towards my brothers, who were talking to a homeless who witnessed the murder.

"The… The scary man killed the attractive crying man," the witness was saying, "and then he started to pray. And the strange part – after a while, I s-swear I heard this voice, answering."

"What did it say?" Sam asked.

"Well, it didn't make any sense," the witness told him.

"Try us."

"The voice said, 'for Virgil to return tomorrow at the place where he crossed over, at the time of the crossing. And Raphael would reach through the window and take him and the key home'," the witness recited.

"Uh, okay," Dean said, pulling out some money and handing a bill to the witness. "Hey, thank you."

"Dean," Sam said as the witness walked away, "if Virgil gets back with that key, Cass is dead, and our world is toast."

"Well, then we stop him," Dean replied. "I mean, how bad can an angel with no wings be?"

"I'm coming," I said.

The two of them looked at me, noticing for the first time that I was there, as well.

"No offence, lady," Dean said. "But you're out of your league."

"You are not the one to decide what is or isn't out of my league," I replied, getting tired of the stupid game of cat and mouth I was playing with them. "And you better not call me 'lady' ever again."

"Diana?" Sam asked.

"No, it's the Easter Bunny," I retorted. "Now, are you coming?"

"What are you doing here?" he asked, following me.

"Long story," I muttered.

"Long story as in 'I don't know yet' or long story 'I'm not gonna tell you?" Dean questioned.

"Let's just call it a long story," I replied, stopping for a moment to look at the dead body. "I know it's not Cas, but do you think that if he died here, he'll still be alive at our world?"

"I think so," Sam said slowly. "You know Cas?"

"Long story," I said, tearing my eyes away from the scene and moving on. "I've got two guns and a knife on me. Who's taking the knife?"

"Is that legal?" Sam asked, causing Dean to slap his head.

"Since when do you care about legal?" he asked.

"Since we're in a world where our chances of going to jail are significantly higher," Sam replied.

"In our world, they're legal," I explained before they could argue further. "I also expect them back. The last thing I need is for them to trace back to me." I paused for a moment, looking at Dean with a small smile on my face. "Soap Operas?" I asked.

"Said Miss Chick Flicks," he muttered, much to Sam's amusement.

* * *

 _"Guys!" Sam called as he grabbed hold of the key that was in Virgil's coat. "I got it!"_

 _"I'm going to enjoy this," I said, pulling out my angel blade and shoving it hilt-deep into Virgil's chest, gloating over the fact that it didn't even take the significant light pouring out of his body to make sure he was dead._

 _A sigil appeared on the window drawing the attention of both my brothers._

 _"Raphael," Sam said. "Run!"_

A bright red light filled the room, pulling my brothers through the window and I found myself sitting at the exact same spot I was before I left, Spencer seating next to me. it was possible that no time had passed at all – according to Spencer's face, that was the case.

"Diana!" he called. "Are you okay?"

Blood was covering the front of my shirt – Virgil's blood – and a sort of numbness filled me as I looked at him.

"Limbo world," I said, my voice shaking. "Can you bring me a clean shirt from my bag?"

He kneeled and pulled out one of my shirts, handing it to me and making sure nobody walked in as I changed and threw the bloodied shirt into my bag.

"What's going on with me?" I asked, tears starting to stream from my eyes.

"Okay, we're going to sit now," Spencer said, "and you're going to explain to me very slowly and very thoroughly what the hell just happened."

* * *

 _"Well, Cas," Balthazar was saying, "now that you have your sword, try not to die by it."_

 _"Hold on!" Dean called. "We need to talk."_

 _"Talk?" Balthazar asked. "Talk about what? I'm very busy, you know."_

 _"Diana," Sam said._

 _The two angels exchanged worried looks._

 _"What about Diana?" Castiel asked._

 _"I'm not gonna ask how she ended up in that world with us," Dean said. "Because from the look the two of you just shared I know I won't get an answer. You know what? I'm not even gonna ask you what exactly she had against Virgil. But I'm worried about her."_

 _"Diana… was there with you?" Castiel asked._

 _"As far as we know, she might still be," Sam said._

 _Castiel paused for a moment, concentrating. "She isn't," he said. "She's safe."_

 _"Then where the friggin' Hell is she?" Dean questioned._

 _"She'll come to you when the tie is right," Balthazar told him._

 _"She killed Virgil," Dean said._

 _"That was… to be expected of her," Castiel said, presumably remembering my list and knowing Virgil was on it._

 _"She didn't just kill him," Sam said. "She took out a knife and told him she was going to enjoy it."_

 _"And?" Balthazar asked, looking mildly bored._

 _"And she did," Dean said. "She stuck the knife into his heart with a smile."_

 _"We just – we just want to know what's happening to her," Sam explained. "This isn't the sister we remember. This isn't Diana."_

 _"She's with a friend at the moment," Castiel said. "She told him what happened and now she is sleeping."_

 _"Well, what about tomorrow?" Dean asked. "Or the day after that? What about the next time she'll kill something -_ _some_ one _\- without even thinking about it, enjoying the way the blade sinks into his chest?"_

 _"I'll watch over her," Balthazar said. "Make sure she doesn't get herself into too much trouble."_

 _"Why should we believe you?" Sam questioned._

 _"Because you have no other choice," Castiel said. "I'm trying to watch over her, as well, but lately I am less available to do so."_

 _"I know one of her friends," Balthazar added. "I'll make sure she doesn't sink all the way into insanity."_

 _"Well, then make sure you do one hell of a job," Dean said. "Cause from what I see, she's already half way there."_

* * *

"Am I insane?" I asked Reid the next morning, as he was getting ready to go out on the case.

We explained as much as we could to Hotch and Rossi, and I even told them for the first time about the list I made after Jenna and Daniel died, and how it all led to me killing Virgil.

The four of us agreed that it would be best if I would take a couple of days of rest but as we were still in the middle of a case, it meant I was confided to the hotel room I shared with Spencer.

"You're not insane," he replied. "Why would you think you are?"

"I have to be a psychopath of some kind," I muttered. "I killed last night."

"For a good reason," he reminded me.

"But I enjoyed it," I whispered. "Why did I enjoy it?" I sighed, rubbing my tired eyes. "Sam and Dean think that I'm insane," I said.

"You could always call them and prove you're not," he suggested.

"But what if I am?" I asked. "What if I call them, and turn out to be insane?"

"It won't happen," Spencer said. "You're only saying this because you're scared of meeting them again, which means you're not ready."

"I'm delaying this for fourteen years now." I noted. "Will I ever be ready?"

"Of course you will," he said.

"When?"

"As stupid as it may sound," Spencer said, picking up his messenger bag and heading out the door, "you'll be ready when you're ready."

* * *

 **A/N#2:** **Don't you just love it when there's an actor who plays on both shows? First there was Lucifer/Nick/Lt. Evans, and now Balthazar/Clyde Easter. I thrive in moments like these.**

 **Also, Dean and Sam meeting Diana and _friggin_ remembering it, because I honestly got tired of her turning her back at them whenever they walk by. Do have to change some plans for the season finale because of that, but it was worth it.**

 **Season finale... wouldn't you like to find out?**


	7. Closing In

**A/N:** **Sorry I didn't upload last week! Exam period and all of that... Anyways, done with that and now I have ten weeks of freedom before the next semester starts :)**

 **Lots of things happening in this chapter, I wrapped up CM's plot for season 6, and am now heading towards the end of SPN. Next chapter should involve pieces from "The Man Who Would Be King", "Let It Bleed" and "The Man Who Knew Too Much" possibly also "Meet The New Boss".**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or Criminal Minds.**

* * *

 **"I'm tired of being what you want me to be.  
Feeling so faithless, lost under the surface.  
Don't know what you're expecting of me.  
Put under the pressure of walking in your shoes."  
Linkin Park, ****_Numb_**

Sitting at the waiting longue of the hospital, I looked at my team members. We all felt so hopeless in situations like these, unable to do anything other than sit and wait for news as the doctors operated on our friend.

I remembered a conversation I had with her, just a couple of days ago, and couldn't help but feel like there was more I could have done – more I should have done to save her.

 _"Emily!" I called, running after her as we walked out of a meeting regarding a string of killings in DC, all connecting to a company named CWS. "Emily, stop!"_

 _"What do you want?" she asked, looking around us to make sure none of our other team members was close enough to listen._

 _"I want you to stop avoiding me," I said. "We all heard what they said. Ian Doyle is the one killing those families, and I'd bet everything he's doing this to pass you a message."_

 _"I know that's why he's doing this," she replied. "I knew from the moment I saw the tattoo."_

 _"What are you going to do about it?" I asked._

 _"Whatever needs to be done," she said._

 _"Emily, if you do something stupid –"_

 _"There's nothing else to do," she hissed._

 _"There must be!" I called. "I didn't work so hard to keep you alive just so you could die now!"_

 _"Well, then," she sighed, "maybe you shouldn't have worked so hard. Leave me alone," she added, ignoring the shock and hurt on my features. "And don't you dare tell the team about this. As far as everybody's concerned, this conversation never happened."_

 _"Why does that seems to be a recurring principle with you?" I questioned._

 _"Because that's how I can keep you all alive," she said, walking away._

 _I stood there, staring at her direction even after she was gone from my sight, as all I could think of is that the look she had on her face is the same look I often see in the mirror. The look of someone who doesn't expect to survive at the end of this._

She disappeared the next day, going after Doyle herself. But she had also gotten herself into an ambush, resulting in Doyle catching her and nearly killing her.

 _"I'd do it, you know," I told Balthazar after Hotch left the room where he and I were interrogating him. He was using his alias of Clyde Easter, but I couldn't hide the fact that I knew him._

 _"Do what?" he asked._

 _"Put a bullet between Doyle's eyes to save Emily," I replied._

 _"No, you won't," he said. "I made a promise to your brothers not to let you go down a road you can't get back from, and as annoying as they may be sometimes, they had a point and this falls under the category."_

 _"He's a monster," I said. "I hunt monsters."_

 _"And two years ago, you knew where was the line between monsters to kill and monsters to put behind bars," he retorted._

 _"You just said that the only way to stop him was to kill him," I reminded him._

 _"And since when am I a reliable source?" he questioned. "That isn't who you are, Diana. Or, at least, not who you need to be."_

I very nearly did it. When we arrived to the warehouse where he planned to kill her – the warehouse where she supposedly killed his son – he heard gunshots and escaped. It took all of my willpower not to run after him, but I knew that Emily needed us more at the moment.

Seven heads darted up when JJ entered the room to give us news about Emily's condition. We all looked hopeful, praying for good news, but as all she did was slowly shake her head, the truth came upon us.

"No," Garcia whispered, disbelieving.

"She never made it out of the OR," JJ said, tears shining in her eyes.

Spencer made a move to stand up and I immediately followed, grabbing his hand in mine.

"I didn't get a chance to say goodbye," he said, and then I was holding him as we comforted each other, using the simplicity of a touch to remind us what we have as we went to a meeting.

For four days, we didn't let go.

The funeral was simple. There wasn't too much of a crowd, as Emily didn't have many people in her life. The priest spoke, and though I was certain what he said was beautiful, I couldn't for everything I have remember what it was.

We moved forwards one by one to lay flowers on the coffin, and Spence let go of my hand for the first time since we received news that Emily was dead. That night, I broke.

I dialed the number without thinking, no certainty as to whether or not it was even working, but I knew I at least had to try. It felt like ages before he picked up.

"Hello?" a voice said.

"Dean?" I asked, my voice shaking.

"Diana?"

"I'm sorry it's late," I quickly said. "I just… my friend died."

"I'm sorry for your loss," he said. "And, not that I mind that you called, but… why did you call?"

"I spent the past four days being strong for my friends," I explained. "And I… I guess I just needed to know there was someone there for me, too."

"You didn't have to call me to know that," he said softly. "Me and Sammy – we're always here for you."

"Thank you," I said, tears burning at the back of my eyes.

"Do you want to come here?"

"No," I replied. "It's not time yet."

"It's been fourteen years, Dee," he sighed. "When will it be time?"

"Apparently, at the season finale," I muttered.

"And how will we know we reached the season finale?" he asked, a hint of anger to his voice.

"Something ground-shaking will most likely happen," I reasoned.

"Dee," he sighed again. "Our life is a string of one ground-shaking event after the other."

"Well, mine isn't," I retorted, seeing from the corner of my eye my apartment door open and Spencer walking in. "Thank you for being here for me," I told my brother.

"Any time." There was a short pause before he added, "I miss you."

"I miss you, too," I said. "Be careful."

"Ain't I always?" he questioned with a laugh before hanging up.

I looked up at Spencer, and he sat down next to me, pulling me into his arms with a hug. For the first time since Prentiss died, I cried.

* * *

The next couple of weeks blurred into one another.

Living from case to case, one AA meeting after another as I was trying with everything I had not to fall to pieces. As time passed, I was getting more and more reckless, charging head first into situations I should have probably stopped and thought about.

Two weeks after Prentiss' death, Hotch took me aside to talk to me about the risks I was taking. I calmed him down by saying I would be more careful from now on, and then resumed doing the same thing, avoiding him as I did.

I didn't talk to Dean since that phone call in the middle of the night after Emily's funeral, and from the little I spoke to Bobby I understood he didn't tell Sam about it.

I felt like a tear was created in the relationship I had with the older hunter since the Apocalypse, as was the case with everybody I knew during that time. Now, I was only talking to him when he needed help on cases, usually ones that concerned the boys.

"Eve?" I asked him one day over the phone. "Mother of the year. Got us all thrown out of Paradise and one of her kids killed the other. Wouldn't surprise me to find out she created the monsters."

"It wouldn't?" he asked.

"There are three main villains in the story of Paradise," I explained. "The first is the snake, commonly referred to as Satan in disguise."

"Well, Satan's currently in the cage," Bobby noted.

"And thank God for that," I retorted. "The second is Lilith – she's supposedly Adam's first wife, and we know that Sam killed her. That leaves us with Eve, who corrupted Adam into eating the Forbidden Fruit."

"I must admit," Bobby said, "I never looked at this story that way."

"Major in Religions," I said with a smile. "Anything else you need?"

Castiel dropped by every now and then. Sometimes, he spent the night but mostly he just came to give me messages about the war in Heaven, and about my brothers.

No matter where I looked, things weren't the same anymore, and all it did was cause me to act without thinking – by the way things were going, I didn't expect to survive at the end of this all.

One day, about a month after Emily died, I came one step too close to fulfilling this expectation.

The team was after a serial bomber, and after we managed to track down our Unsub, we were left with three houses he could have been hiding in. We split up, and Morgan was teamed with me.

Foolishly, I insisted we don't call for backup when we saw light in one of the rooms, and head inside instead. We tried to calm the bomber down, but all he did was smile manically at us. I saw the button in his hand a moment too late.

I jumped, pushing Derek out of the door just as the bomb exploded and we both flew outside.

Everything burned. My entire back felt as if it was on fire and I couldn't move my legs. I raised my head just enough to calm down with the fact that they were still there and that Morgan was okay before the dizziness overcame me.

"Chessi!" he called, moving closer to me and checking my injuries. He had a cut at his hairline – probably from the fall – but other than that he seemed unharmed. "Come one, Chessi, talk to me."

I opened my mouth to speak, only to be chocking on the blood that came out of it. My hand flattered at my side and he reached out, grabbing it in reassurance.

"It's okay," he said. "I need to call an ambulance…" He searched for his phone and his face twisted in horror as he realized it must have fell when we were inside the house, now exploded to pieces. "No… No! Chessi!"

 _It's okay_ , I tried to tell him as I looked into his eyes. _It's okay._

His eyes widened in shock and he looked around, checking if there was anybody nearby.

"Hello?" he called out. "Is there anybody here? Help! Please, help us!"

 _It's no use,_ I told him. _There's nobody here. But it's okay._ A small, choked out laugh escaped my lips. Guess I won't be seeing the season finale, after all. Or ever talk to my brothers again. And Raphael… the only hope now was that Cas would still have enough fight in him to kill the bastard.

"Diana," the familiar voice said, as if summoned from my thoughts.

Derek turned to face him. "You've got to help us, man," he said. "Can I use your phone? I… she needs to get to a hospital."

"There will be no need of that," Castiel said, walking towards us.

 _Cas,_ I sent out, not even caring if Derek heard. _You came._

"Of course," Castiel said, leaning next to me. "I will always come for you."

"Out of context this could sound weird," I laughed, before cringing at the slight pain I still felt. "Why didn't it work?"

"There's grace in you," Castiel muttered. "I can't heal it. The gun wouldn't work," he added, causing me to raise my head and see Morgan holding Castiel at gunpoint as the angel looked positively indifferent.

"Who are you?" my teammate questioned.

"Inaccurate," Cas noted.

"What?" Derek asked, confused.

"Your question was inaccurate," Castiel explained.

"Cas, don't," I pleaded, though I knew deep down it was time for Derek to know. After all, other than himself and Seaver, everybody knew.

Lightning flashed in the sky as the outlines of Castiel's black wings showed on the grass behind him.

" _What_ are you?" Morgan asked, understanding his mistake.

Castiel smiled softly. "I'm an angel of the lord."

* * *

"An angel?" Morgan asked for the tenth time as we sat together in the car, driving back to the BAU. Castiel was sitting in the backseat, looking mildly bored.

"Yes," I replied, again. "An angel."

"With big, fluffy white wings and a halo?"

"The wings are black, but the halo is there," I said, looking at Cas through the review mirror. "Grown a bit since I last saw you. I understand the war is going well?"

"As well as it could," Cas confirmed.

"A war?" Derek asked.

"It's not all peachy and rainbows," I muttered.

"What else is there?" he pushed.

"I'll tell you when the rest of the team is there."

"Why?" he asked. "Why not now?"

"Because," I replied, "other than yourself and Ashley, everybody already know the basics. No," I corrected. "They know a twisted event of the basics, and I need to sort that out before explaining everything else because, trust me, there's a lot to explain."

The rest of the way to the BAU went silently.

* * *

"Let's start with the basics," I said, looking between my teammates before pausing for a moment on Strauss, who gave me a curt nod. "Everything you were afraid of as children – werewolves, vampires, the monster under the bed – it all exists. There are Shapeshifters, there are Demons, there are Angels, there is Heaven and Hell." I paused for a moment, letting the words I said hang in the air before moving on. "There was the Apocalypse."

"The Apocalypse?" Seaver asked skeptically. "I think we would have noticed, wouldn't we?"

"You did," I told her. "Species going extinct in Key West, everyone in a fifteen-man fishing crew going blind in Alaska, a teacher in New York killing sixty-six students – those were just the preparations."

"We interrogated that last case," Morgan noted. "Did you know all along we weren't going to solve it?"

"I helped when I can," I defended.

"When?"

"Last year," Castiel cut in. "Your family decided to take an unplanned vacation away from Chicago just before the big storm hit."

Derek's eyes widened. "That was you?" he asked.

"Gabriel helped," I shrugged.

"Gabe?" Hotch asked. "How didn't I know about it?"

"It's complicated," I said. "I was trying to keep you safe. If that meant hiding information, so be it."

"You lied to us," Rossi said. "What else did you hide from us?"

"The Child of Creation," Castiel said, ignoring my annoyed look. "I don't believe she had told any of you about it, though I wouldn't put it past Penelope to know."

All heads turned to Garcia. "I've kept in contact with Chuck," she shrugged. "He's a prophet retailing the tales of the Winchester brothers."

"Retailed," Derek corrected. "They're dead."

"So was I," I muttered. "Winchesters don't stay dead long."

"But you're not a Winchester," Rossi said. "You're a Chess."

"I was," I told him. "Sometimes I still am. But after discovering I have supernatural powers because I'm the one who can choose the winning side of the Apocalypse that my brothers started, things leak in."

"You chose the Angel's side, right?" Seaver asked.

"I didn't," I admitted. "But I didn't choose Lucifer's side, either."

"Why not?" Derek asked, confused.

"Because of Jennifer," Castiel said, reaching out and grabbing my hand. "In the end, it all came down to her family."

"The Angels and Demon's plan was to have Sam as Lucifer's vessel, and Dean as Michael's, and to have them fight each other," I explained. "I disagreed to it. They threatened my family – Daniel, Jenna and you guys – and I still refused."

"They killed them?" Garcia asked, her hand covering her mouth in shock.

"The other Angels were only looking for an excuse to kill Jennifer," Castiel said. "Even if she would have agreed, they would have killed her."

"Why?" Strauss asked. "Why would they kill a baby?"

"Because she was a Nephilim," Cas said.

"A what?" Hotch asked.

"The daughter of a human and an angel," I explained. "I… I cheated on Daniel with Cas. More than once. And, just before the Apocalypse started, I found out I was pregnant and somehow I just knew it wasn't Daniel's. I left Cas and stayed with Daniel in hopes I wouldn't attract too much attention, but as soon as Zachariah saw me, he knew."

"Zachariah?" Spence asked. "I met him, didn't I? When Daniel and I came to pick you up from Chuck's house."

"You did," I confirmed. "Long story short, we managed to stop the Apocalypse, but at a cost. Daniel, Jenna, Ellen, Jo… At a certain point, I was sure Sam was dead, as well."

"That was why you left," Morgan realized.

"I've been keeping an eye on Dean," I said. "And then, I failed and things were happening here, so I returned."

Silence filled the room for a couple of minutes, so thick you could cut through it with a knife, before Seaver spoke, her voice wavering.

"You said, earlier, about Heaven and Hell…"

"There are two ways to get sent to Hell," Castiel said softly. "You either do an act so horrid it tears your soul, or you sell your soul to a demon."

"So the criminals we hunt..." Morgan started.

"Hell," I said emotionlessly. "All of them."

"I never asked," Hotch said quietly. "Hayley?"

"Heaven," Castiel said. "I had seen her there with the others."

"Prentiss?" Reid asked in a small voice.

"Heaven," I said confidently.

"How do you know?" he asked.

"Because I had gone through a lot to make sure of that," I said. "Ten years ago, she sold her soul to save Declan's life. I spent most of my time since I returned making sure she got it back."

"At what cost?" Rossi questioned suspiciously.

"The most valued coin when you're dealing with the Child of Creation," Castiel told him. "A favor."

* * *

The explanations went on for hours after that. Castiel went away for a while, and then returned, and all I did was sit and talk to my teammates before I received a phone call from Bobby, excusing me to go aside.

"You need to be careful," he said. "The boys just killed Eve but right before she died, she told them something important."

"What is it?" I asked.

"Crowley's not dead."

I took a moment to collect myself, making sure I wouldn't betray the fact that I already knew this information.

"How?" I questioned.

"We're not sure yet," Bobby admitted. "But according to Eve, he's still taking her 'children' and using their souls."

"Is Eve really a reliable source?" I asked.

"Right now?" he questioned. "More reliable than Cas, at least."

"That's a very serious accusation," I warned him. "Are you sure that –"

"He was the one to kill Crowley, but Crowley's alive," Bobby said. "Do you have any other explanation?"

"Be careful," I said instead of replying. "Stay in touch."

"Keep an eye out," he ordered me. "Trust nobody."

"Goodbye."

I hung up the call, walking back to my team.

"Where's Cas?" I asked Spencer and Ashley.

"The boys took him aside to give him 'The Talk'," Seaver said.

"You're joking me, right?" I asked. "We've been together for years now. He's already gotten me pregnant and took responsibility – which I declined."

"You know how they are," Seaver shrugged.

"Who was on the phone?" Reid asked.

"Bobby," I said. "Things are getting complicated."

"How complicated?" he questioned worriedly.

I sighed. "Season finale complicated."


	8. Falling Apart

**A/N:** **I am so terribly late with this chapter, I know... Hard chapter to write (But, then again, aren't they all?)**

 **Anyways, I hope you'd like it. Wrapping up SPN season 6 here with 'Let it Bleed' and 'The Man Who Knew Too Much', next chapter will be 'Meet the New Boss' and, finally, the awaited reunion.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or Criminal Minds.**

* * *

 _Then:_

"Agent-in-trainee Winchester –"

"Chess," I said quickly.

"It says Winchester," Hotch said.

"It was when I joined the academy," I said. "Changed it. I don't use Winchester anymore."

"Why?" Gideon asked.

"It didn't fit anymore," I replied. "I'm not a Winchester. I shouldn't use Winchester."

.

"Are you still keeping in touch with your family?" Morgan asked.

"I haven't spoken to them since the day I left for Harvard," I replied.

.

"Are you saying that after not seeing your brothers for nearly a decade, you avoided meeting them after your father's death?"

"See them and say what? 'I'm sorry I bailed on you guys and ran away, not bothering to pick up the damn phone when you called me, let alone call _you_ during those nine-and-a-friggin'-half years but let's forget all of that and just sit down to exchange stories of our lost time'?"

.

"You have enough crap of your own going on. You don't need their crap on top of that."

"Their crap is also my crap, Bobby," I said. "When Azazel was after them, he was after me, too. When Dean sold his soul, I was in Hell, too. Hell, half of my crap is _because_ of their crap."

"Which is exactly why you should stay away," Bobby said. "This is how things end up for you when you're away from them. What do you think would happen if you start being in touch again?"

.

"It's your destiny. The Child of Creation will bring me the victory, and now that my plan is starting to move forward, I need to put the last pieces to place."

"'the Child of Creation'?" I repeated, confused.

.

"The Child of Creation must not be harmed," the voice said and I opened my eyes to stare at him.

"Who are you?" I whispered.

"I am Raphael."

.

"Gabriel," I repeated. "The Archangel? One of the Angels sent to protect the four edges of the earth? The Angel of Mondays?"

"Touchy subject over there," he laughed. "I don't like Mondays."

.

"But what does that even mean?" I asked him. "Being the Child of Creation, what does it _mean_?"

"It means you have great powers," Gabriel told me. "It's mostly emotional now. Those kinds of things are hard to control."

"Can you teach me?"

.

"Angels," I smiled. "Or, specifically, an Angel named Castiel."

"Don't get anything into that head of yours," he warned.

"Like what?" I asked before I realized what he was talking about. "Dave!" I called. "What the hell? He's an _Angel_!"

.

"The man you were with," Castiel started, "he put his lips to yours. Why? Is it some kind of a farewell gesture?"

"Sort of," I said, thinking to myself that now is probably not the time to start explaining romance to an Angel.

"Im that case," he kissed my lips softly for a moment, before backing away, "farewell, Diana. Until the next time."

.

 _It is Daniel's child._ I told myself, not for the first time during the last couple of days. _It must be, because I know what being a Nephilim is. And I couldn't bare it to give birth to a child who will be hunted from the day they are born._

"But -"

"Castiel," I said harshly. "It's Daniel's baby, because it must be. We can never be together, we can never have a life or kids. And as much as I love you, I can never give up on that."

.

"Don't give me that," Cas said, hurt in his eyes. "You know the truth, Diana. Old me might've bought everything you gave him but I know better than that. The baby is –"

"It's Daniel's baby!" I called out.

"It's not and you know it!" Cas called. "I _fell_ for you! For _her_! I fell for having a baby with a human!"

.

"It's really a shame," Raphael sighed. "I would rather not to kill such a young girl."

A wicked smile crossed his lips and his Angel Blade cut into Jenna's small frame.

"No!" I screamed out, charging onto him but he was already gone.

.

I knew it was probably the most painful thing I ever had to do, but I also knew that if I ever wanted to give Dean his shot at having a normal life it had to be done. I leaned next to him and looked into his green eyes, identical to mine.

"Diana?" he asked, disbelieving, before I put two fingers to his head and he passed out.

The light died off and I was left with Castiel at the cemetery, exhausted.

"What did you do?" he asked.

"Gave him another shot," I said. "When he wakes up, he won't remember I was here."

 _Now:_

* * *

 **"And I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad.  
The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I ever had.  
I find it hard to tell you, I find it hard to take.  
When people run in circles it's a very, very mad world."  
Gary Jules, ****_Mad World_**

"This better be important," Gabriel's voice said from the other end of the line. "Kali and I are just on a vacation in Hawaii. I'm telling you, this girl in a hula skirt…"

"You really should have added a list of possible side-effects," I told him. "You know, something small. Or not that small. Do's and don'ts. Anything."

"What have you done?" he asked.

"I have no goddamn idea!" I told him. "All I know is that I looked in the mirror this morning, and…" I sighed. "And you know what!"

"You're using your powers too much," he muttered.

"Not more than usual," I replied.

"Yes, you are," he retorted. "Cas tried to heal you and he couldn't do it completely, didn't he?"

"He said it was because of the Grace thing he did," I said.

"Well, you know how they always say not to combine certain sorts of medications together?" Gabe asked. "Well, the Child of Creation and Grace combination is like that!"

"Why didn't you say anything?" I asked.

"Because I didn't think Cas would be stupid enough to do it!" he replied. "Even in between Angels, this is very rare. An Angel and a human – the Child of Creation, no less – nobody knows what that would do!"

"Well, we do now," I muttered. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Nothing," he said. "There's nothing you can do but delay it."

"How long do I have?" I asked.

"If you stop using your powers completely, you have about five years," he said. "If you don't, you have less."

"And what happens then?" I questioned.

"Depends on whether or not the prophecy is fulfilled."

"What do you mean by that?" I asked. "The Apocalypse is over!"

"You know the prophecy by heart," Gabriel told me. "Is the word Apocalypse mentioned there?"

I thought for a moment. "No," I said, confused. "But –"

"You are the Child of Creation," he said. "You job is not done yet."

"Okay," I said. "What do I do now?"

"I can tell you how to hide it," Gabriel told me. "But it's not going to be easy. And it's only going to get worse as time goes by."

"I don't have any other choice, do I?" I questioned. "Tell me what to do."

Later that day, I walked into Hotch's office.

"I'm trying to tell you as much as I can," I said. "So I should let you know that I might leave for a couple of days soon."

"Why?" he asked.

"Castiel's plan is moving forwards," I said. "And my brothers are getting involved… there's a high chance I will need to come in and stop them all from hurting each other."

"Will you be safe?" he asked, genuinely worried.

"I don't know," I replied honestly.

Hotch sighed. "You contact us at least once a day," he ordered. "Even if you're away and busy, you let us know you're alright and alive. Clear?"

"Crystal," I replied.

"And I expect you to be back when you're done," he added.

I smiled softly at him as I replied, "Wouldn't dream to do otherwise."

* * *

"Sweetie," I heard Crowley's voice talking as I walked towards the room. "You look tense."

"You took Ben and Lisa," Castiel said, confirming my thoughts that he wasn't involved. It was, however, his responsibility to stop it.

"Oh," Crowley said. "That."

"I told you –"

"Not to touch Sam and Dean," Crowley cut him off. "I've respected that. I'm merely exploiting the obvious loophole. As long as I have the woman and the boy, your fop-coiffed little heroes will be scouring the Earth for them – therefore, not you and not me. Everybody wins."

"You should have talked to me first," Cas told him.

"And you'd have said… what?" I asked, walking in. "Over my dead body? Or just to keep them safe?"

"Diana…" Cas started, but I didn't care.

"Shut up," I said. "I'm talking now."

"Diana," Crowley told me with a smile. "Haven't seen you in a while now. How's dear Emily?"

"My family," I said, my voice deathly low. With all of the stress of the past couple of days and the anger boiling inside me, all I wanted was to scream. Instead, came a whisper. " _My_ family. The most important thing, the number one rule is don't, under any circumstances, hurt _my family_. And you broke that rule."

"Diana," Cas said, trying to explain himself but I wasn't talking to him, but to Crowley.

"And it's worse than that, isn't it?" I questioned. "Because it's not just my family. You _kidnapped_ civilians. A helpless woman and a twelve-year-old child, being used to manipulate _my family_. Where are they, Crowley?" I asked. "Tell me and we can let it all go. No harm done."

"And if I won't?" he questioned.

"Do you really want to try me?" I asked.

"I would love to," he replied. "After all…" A smile crept on his lips. "You still owe me one."

"You are not to harm them," Castiel said, using my moment of shock to his advantage as he moved towards Crowley. "Do you understand me?"

"You know what?" Crowley asked. "You're maxed out on putting humans out of bounds. I'll do with them as I please. You want to stop me? Go find friggin' Purgatory!"

Castiel stared at him for a moment before grimacing as he put a hand to his temple.

"Call on the bat phone?" Crowley mocked. "Never call during business hours, do they?"

"I'll be back," Cas warned.

"Don't bother," I said, advancing towards the demon who stood in front of me. "Where are they?" I asked again, causing Crowley to mimic the action of locking his lips and putting away the key. "Are they safe?" I questioned.

"Safe is a very relative term," Crowley commented.

"Are they safe?" I questioned again.

"The orders I gave my demons are not to harm them unless absolutely necessary," he said.

"Cause demons are so good at following orders," I mocked.

"They'll follow this one," Crowley insisted.

"They better," I threatened. "Because if they don't, you – and them – will have _me_ to answer to."

* * *

I was standing in the middle of a field. Darlin was parked not far away, but I was standing and waiting for my prayer to be heard.

I didn't have to wait for long.

"Diana," Castiel greeted, looking uneasy. He had a good reason.

"You broke the wall," I said, tears rising to my eyes. "After everything I had gone through to give Sam his soul back and make sure Death built a wall so he wouldn't go insane, you broke the wall."

"It was done for a better cause," he said.

"Do you know what it's like to have a wall brake down in your head?" I asked. "Because I do. That's what Lilith did to me when she possessed Strauss – but you already know that."

"It's not like that," Cas insisted.

"Isn't it?" I asked. "All the memories crashing in your mind, all at once. How is it not the same thing? Actually," I said, "you're right. It's different. Because Sam's memories are a million times worse than the memories I had."

"I had no other choice," he said.

"There is always another choice!" I screamed. "Always! You could have backed off, you could have listened to Dean, you could have thought that maybe, just _maybe_ this was starting to be a bad idea!"

"I was doing this for us," he told me, walking towards me. "For you, for Jenna. So that everything else won't be for nothing."

He reached out to me but I backed away. "For us?" I questioned. "For me? You broke my one rule, and you tell me you did it for me?"

"Raphael needs to be stopped," he insisted.

"Then find another way," I said. "Let somebody else fight him and just let go." Tears were shining in my eyes as I pleaded him with everything I had. "Do _that_ for me."

"I…" Cas looked sorry as he tore his eyes away from mine. "I can't."

"In that case," I said, "this decision is on you. I'm sorry."

"For what?" he asked.

"For this," I replied, raising my hands and throwing him across the field and onto a tree. "Stay away from me and stay away from my family," I threatened. "You and I are done."

With a flutter of wings, he was gone and I was left alone. I knew what had to be done next, but it took me a couple of moments to prepare myself to do it.

"Balthazar," I whispered. "Clyde. Whatever you want me to call you – can you please come?"

"You lot will never leave me alone, will you?" Balthazar asked, materializing in front of me. "What do you want?"

"I need you to pass something to my brothers," I said, handing him a piece of paper. "This is where Cas and Crowley will be."

"Do I look like a delivery guy?" Balthazar asked. "Why would I do this?"

"Because Cas is slowly losing it," I replied. "He already plans to double-cross Crowley. How long do you think it will be until he kills you?"

"And you offer me – what? Your protection?" he all but mocked. "You may be the Child of Creation but you're not that powerful."

"I'm not just the Child of Creation," I said, taking down my glamour for him to see.

He sighed. "You did the Grace combination ritual, didn't you?"

"Yes," I said, looking grim. "Now would you help me or not?"

"I'm going to hold on to that promise," he warned.

"I have every intention of fulfilling it," I replied, waiting for him to disappear.

With shaking hands, I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone, calling Hotch.

"Hotchner," he said.

"It's me," I told him.

"You already called today," he said, confused. "Is everything alright?"

"Where are you?" I asked instead.

"San Diego," he replied.

"I'm on my way," I said.

"Chessi, is everything alright?" he repeated.

"No," I replied honestly.

"Is there anything you need?"

"I need an AA meeting," I said.

"I'll tell Reid," he said. "And, Diana?"

The use of my birth name caused me to pause. "Yes?"

"I hope you'll tell us, when you're ready," he said, before hanging up.

I cried all the way to San Diego.

* * *

 _Dean and Bobby were walking into the warehouse, looking at each other with confusion and slight fear as Crowley read out from a piece of paper, getting ready to open Purgatory and unleash all of the souls within to himself and Raphael._

 _Dean took in a deep breath before throwing an Angel Blade on Raphael, who caught it without even looking. Sighing, Crowley swayed his wrist, causing Bobby to fall down the stairs, later flipping Dean on the table and breaking it._

 _"Bit busy, gentlemen," he said. "Be with you in a moment." He finished the spell and waited, but nothing happened. "Maybe I said it wrong," he mused, turning over the paper in his hands._

 _"You said it perfectly," Castiel said, materializing out of nowhere. "But what you needed…" He lifted a jar. "Was this."_

 _"I see," Crowley sighed, tasting the blood he used to draw the sigil on the wall. "And we've been working with… Dog blood. Naturally."_

 _"Enough of these games, Castiel," Raphael said. "Give us the blood."_

 _"You…" Crowley said, laughing bitterly. "Game's over. His jar's empty." He looked back at the other angel. "So, Castiel, how'd your ritual go? Better than ours, I'll bet."_

 _"You can't imagine what it's like," Cas told him. "They're all inside me… Millions upon millions of souls."_

 _"Sounds sexy," Crowley mocked. "Exit stage Crowley."_

 _He disappeared, leaving Castiel looking at Raphael._

 _"Now, what's the matter, Raphael?" Castiel asked. Somebody clip your wings?"_

 _"Castiel, please," Raphael begged. "You let the Demon go, but not your own brother?"_

 _"The Demon I have plans for," Castiel told him. "You, on the other hand…" He smiled wickedly before snapping his fingers, making Raphael explode to a million pieces just as the other angel did to him when we were at Chuck's house. "That was for Jenna," he said. Looking around him, he seemed to remember my brother and Bobby were there, as well. "So, you see… I saved you."_

 _"You sure did, Cas," Dean said, slowly walking towards him. "Thank you."_

 _"You doubted me," Cas said. "Fought against me. But I was right all along."_

 _"Okay, Cas, you were," Dean agreed. "We're sorry. Let's just defuse you, okay?"_

 _"What do you mean?" Castiel asked, confused._

 _"You're full of nuke," Dean told him. "It's not safe. So before the eclipse ends, let's get them souls back to where they belong."_

 _"Oh, no," Cas said. "They belong with me."_

 _"No, Cas," Dean all but begged, wishing for the angel to understand. "I-It's scrambling your brain."_

 _"No, I'm not finished yet," Cas replied. "Raphael had many followers, and I must punish them all severely." He smiled slightly, but it was different than the smile I was used to, and it seemed unfitting on my lover's face. "I even have a list."_

 _"Listen to me," Dean told him. "Listen… I know there's a lot of bad water under the bridge, but we were family once. I'd have died for you. I almost did a few times," he added as an afterthought. "So if that means anything to you… Please. I've lost Lisa, I've lost Ben. I don't even know where I stand with Diana anymore and now I've lost Sam. Don't make me lose you, too." He looked at Cas, pain clear in his eyes. "You don't need this kind of juice anymore, Cas. Get rid of it before it kills us all."_

 _"You're just saying that because I won," Castiel replied. "Because you're afraid. You're not my family, Dean. I have no family."_

 _Just then, Sam sneaked from behind him, stabbing him with the Angel Blade all the way to the hilt. My scream wasn't heard, as I once again remembered I wasn't in my own body, but in Dean's. all of us stared in shock as Cas pulled the knife out, putting it down on the wreckage of the table in front of him._

 _"I'm glad you made it, Sam," he said. "But the Angel Blade won't work, because I'm not an Angel anymore. I'm your new God," he declared. "A better one. So you will bow down and profess your love unto me, your Lord… Or I shall destroy you."_

* * *

I woke up to find Castiel in my hotel room, sitting on the bed. Spencer was standing not far from him, looking at the two of us in a way that made it clear that he will leave it to me to sort out, but will interfere if he thinks Castiel went out of the line.

I looked at the angel, my lover. His halo was so big that it blinded me, but through it, I could see it wasn't all pure, like the other angels'. It had evil in it – a kind I never saw before.

"Diana," Castiel greeted, as if nothing ever happened between us.

"Castiel," I greeted back, more severely than I planned to.

"So…" He raised his hands, putting his body in display. "What do you think?"

"What do I think?" I repeated in disbelief. "I think you've gone mad. I think you completely lost it. What I think is that whatever it is inside of you right now is killing you, and you don't even notice!"

"There is nothing wrong with me," Cas said.

"Maybe it's not that you don't notice," I whispered. "Maybe you just don't care."

"There is nothing wrong with me," Castiel repeated. "Can't you see, Diana? I'm better now. Stronger."

"At what cost?" I asked. "Was it really worth it? All of the pain getting those souls caused, only to kill Raphael?"

"It wasn't only to kill Raphael," he replied. "I ended the battle."

"At how many lives?" I questioned. "How many angels did you kill? Your own brothers!"

"They are not my brothers anymore," Cas said. "I am no longer an angel. I am God."

"God?" I repeated. "Look at yourself, Cas. This isn't you. Whatever it is that you've become… you won't be able to hold it in for much longer."

"I am better," he said.

"Keep telling yourself that," I whispered. "Maybe you'll believe it in the end."

"Can't you see?" Cas asked again. "All I've done – for us. For you. And it was all thanks to you."

"Because I told you to team with Crowley," I whispered, ashamed.

"Because you chose me," he corrected. "Whom she would choose shall conquer the world. Now you can finally be where you belong. As my queen."

Tears were burning in my eyes. "It all comes down to that in the end, doesn't it?" I asked. "That stupid prophecy. The Child of Creation." I looked at him, and it hurt more than all to see he didn't even understand why that upset me so much. "Get out."

"Diana…" he started.

"I said, get out," I repeated, louder this time.

"You need to understand –"

"With all the respect, Cas," Spencer said, cutting in. "I think it would be best if you leave now."

Castiel looked at him thoughtfully for a second before nodding slowly and disappearing with a flutter of wings.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Spencer asked.

"No," I whispered.

"Do you want to go to a meeting?"

I slowly shook my head.

"Do you want me to ask Morgan to train with you?" he went on. "Go out to a bar?" I shook my head again. "What do you need?"

"I need to work it off," I replied.

"Work it off," Spencer repeated. "We can do this."

* * *

 _"Freak lightning strikes on the heels of the fire that burned down the Center for Vibrational Enlightenment earlier today. Said a spokesman, 'This tragedy represents the largest loss in new-age motivational speaker history'."_

 _"Motivational speakers?" Sam asked in disbelief as he and Dean worked on the Impala._

 _"Yeah," Dean said. "I'm not sure new Cas gets irony any better than old Cas. Course, old Cas wouldn't smite Madison Square Garden just to prove a point. He is off the deep end of the deep end." He sighed. "And there's no slowing down."_

 _"So, what?" Sam asked. "Try to talk to him again?"_

 _"Sam," Dean said in disbelief._

 _"Dean, all we can do is talk to the guy," Sam replied._

 _"He's not a guy," Dean said. "He's God, and he's pissed. And when God gets righteous, you get the hell out of the way. Haven't you read the Bible?"_

 _"I guess," Sam said, not truly getting the point Dean was trying to pass._

 _"Cas is never coming back," Dean went on. "He has lied to us, he used us, he cracked your gourd like it was nothing. No more talk. We have spent enough on him."_

 _"Okay," Sam said. "But there's one more thing we need to try."_

 _"What's that?" Dean questioned. "What haven't we tried yet?"_

 _"The Child of Creation."_

 _"Sam, for all we know the Child of Creation could be in with him over this!" Dean called._

 _"For all we know she can be just as unhappy as we are," Sam retorted._

 _"Well, we're not gonna check," Dean said with a note of finality. "Hand me that socket wrench."_


	9. Of Gods and Brothers

**A/N:** **It took me way to long to get this chapter over with. Lots and lots of "Meet the New Boss" with just a bit of "Hello, Cruel World".**

 **Tell me what you think!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or Criminal Minds.**

* * *

 **"If I go crazy then  
Will you still call me Superman?  
If I'm alive and well,  
Will you be there, holding my hand?"  
3 Doors Down, ****_Kryptonite_**

"Do you want to talk about it?"

I looked up from the book I was reading to see Spencer standing next to me. We just called a cold case over the abduction of three women, and as usual in these cases, the mood in the plane wasn't high.

All of us kept thinking we could have done more. Each of us blamed himself for not managing to crack it. And as I was a complete mess in the six weeks that had passed since Castiel became God, and as September 23rd neared, it was harder for me to stay focused.

The option of breaking my year-long sobriety – the first time I managed to stay off the drugs and booze that long – and buy some Dilaudid to help me forget seemed more tempting as days went by, and I knew Reid noticed.

"No talking," I muttered, though I put my book down and marked him to sit next to me. "I can't… I don't think I'll handle it right now."

"You need to let it out," Spencer insisted. "You can't keep it all bottled up like this."

"Of course I can," I retorted. "No chick flick moments, remember?"

"You have to have some chick flick moments every now and then," he replied. "You keep it all inside and when it burst out, you turn to alcohol or drugs."

"I'll be fine," I bit out. "I don't need you to keep me clean."

"Chessi," Reid sighed. "I'm not here as your sponsor, or as your team member. I'm here as your best friend, who is genuinely worried about you. You need to talk about it."

"Talk about it?" I questioned. "I'm sorry, but what am I supposed to say? That my ex-boyfriend lost his mind and became God? That I can't even talk to my brothers, after almost fourteen years? That the season finale came and passed even though I was supposed to show up in it, according to what I was told in the parallel universe I was thrown into? There aren't programs to people like me!"

"But there's me," he said, unbothered by my words or my tone. "I'm here for you, and I'll always be. So, even if you don't want to talk about it, I know you need to cry. And I want to let you know that it's okay."

I looked at him, anger and disbelief burning inside me before I leaned back on the chair and put my head on his shoulder.

"I just want to forget," I muttered.

"But you can't," Spencer told me. "Instead, try to accept it."

"It's hard," I said, my voice breaking as I spoke.

"I know," he replied, leaning his head over mine and taking my hand in his. "That's why I'm here."

I wasn't even sure how things happened after that. All I knew that we landed roughly half an hour later, and that twenty minutes after that found Spencer and me in his apartment, the clothes coming off faster than I thought was possible.

"This is a bad idea," I muttered in between kisses.

"Definitely a bad idea," Spencer said, unhooking my bra with skill I didn't know he even had.

"We work together," I muttered in disbelief before my breath hitched as he kissed my throat.

"We work with profilers," he went on from where I stopped. "They'll know something is going on."

"Wanna hear a secret?" I asked, discarding the remaining pieces of clothing we still had.

"Yeah?" he asked, stopping to look at me.

"I don't care one bit."

Later, we were laying on the bed, Spencer's arm wrapped around me as I snuggled closer to the warmness of his body, my fingers trailing on his chest.

"Wow," he muttered breathlessly. "Just… Wow."

"The feeling's mutual," I said with a small smile. "Completely and definitely mutual."

"So you don't regret it?"

I pulled away to look up at him. "Of course not," I said. "I told you, I don't care about anything else."

"I thought you were just speaking in the heat of the moment," he said.

"I wasn't," I told him. "We are going to have a serious conversation about what happens next, but I don't regret it."

"What happens next?" Spencer asked.

"If it was a one-time thing, if we want it to continue." I hesitated for a moment before adding, "If we want to turn this into something more."

"Something more?"

"Only if you want to," I quickly said. "You don't have to –"

"I think," Spencer said slowly, cutting me off mid-sentence, "that we should talk about it tomorrow when we're both in a right mind." He pulled me close and held me to him protectively. "For now, sleep."

And, against my will and better judgement, a memory surfaced to the front of my mind – the memory of the first time I met with Castiel.

His voice, then stern and lacking emotion, ordering me to sleep. His hands, carrying me to my bed. The look on his face as he pulled his covers on top of me, and told me he was my guardian angel, and that he was always a prayer away.

Pushing the image away from my mind, I took in the feeling of the living, breathing _human_ next to me, and drifted away to sleep.

* * *

 _Bobby was standing in the middle of a living room, reading out some sort of spell. Sam and Dean stood not far behind him along with a couple – supposedly the owners of the house who didn't seem all too pleased with the current use of their living room._

 _The room was shaking, glass shattering all over the place as Bobby finished the spell and my brothers looked around, waiting for something to happen._

 _"Um Hello?" Dean asked, nervousness clear in his voice. "Death?"_

 _Please tell me they're not that stupid, I thought to myself, as a figure appeared behind us._

 _"You're joking."_

 _So apparently, they are that stupid._

 _"I'm sorry, Death," Dean quickly said. "This isn't what it seems."_

 _"Seems like you bound me," Death said, raising his hands and showing the silvery strings that connected them._

 _"For good reason, okay?" Dean said. "Just, uh, hear us out." He looked around for a moment, unsure of what to do with himself before remembering the package Sam placed nearby just minutes earlier. "Fried pickle chip? They're the best in the state."_

 _"That easy to soothe me, you think?" Death questioned. "This is about Sam's hallucinations, I assume?"_

 _What? I thought, confused._

 _"What?" Bobby asked, echoing my thoughts._

 _"Sorry, Sam," Death told him. "One wall per customer. Now unbind me."_

 _"We can't," Sam said, regretting it immediately as Death's attention was passed on to him. "Y-yet," he added, somewhat awkwardly._

 _"This isn't going to end well," Death commented._

 _"We need you to kill God."_

 _Death turned to look at Dean. "Pardon?"_

 _"Kill God," Bobby repeated. "You heard right. Your… Honor."_

 _"What makes you think I can do that?" Death questioned._

 _"You told me," Dean replied._

 _"Why should I?"_

 _"Because…" Dean paused for a moment, trying to think what to say. "We said so, and we're the boss of you." He noticed the looks of pure horror Bobby and Sam were sending his way. "I mean… Respectfully."_

 _"Amazing."_

 _All four of them turned around to see what used to be Castiel, standing there and looking at them. His vessel was half-melted, burns similar to the ones that appeared on Nick's body before Lucifer took Sam as his vessel tracing his skin._

 _"Cas," Sam breathed._

 _"I didn't want to kill you," Cas said. "But now –"_

 _"You can't kill us," Dean said._

 _"You've erased any nostalgia I had for you, Dean," Castiel told him, raising his hand._

 _"Death is our bitch," Dean said, causing Cas to stop mid-motion. "We ain't gonna die, even if God pulls the trigger."_

 _"Annoying little protozoa, aren't they?" Death questioned, seemingly bored of the whole situation. "God?" he questioned, taking a better look. "You look awfully like a mutated angel to me. Your vessel's melting. You're going to explode."_

 _"No, I'm not," Castiel said calmly. "When I've finished my work, I'll repair myself."_

 _"You think you can because you think you're simply under the weight of all those souls, yes?" Death asked him. "But that's not the worst problem. There are things much older than souls in Purgatory, and you gulped those in, too."_

 _"Irrelevant," Cas told him. "I control them."_

 _"For the moment."_

 _"Wait," Dean said, looking between Castiel and Death like it was some sort of twisted tennis match. "What older things?"_

 _"Long before God created Angel and man, he made the first beasts," Death explained. "The Leviathans."_

 _"Leviathans?"_

 _"I personally found them entertaining, but he was concerned they'd chomp the entire petri dish," Death went on. "So he locked them away. Why do you think he created Purgatory? To keep those clever, poisonous things out. Now Castiel has swallowed them. He's the one thin membrane between the old ones and your home."_

 _"Enough," Cas commanded._

 _"Stupid little soldier you are," Death remarked._

 _"Why?" Castiel questioned. "Because I dared open a door that he shut? Where is he? I did a service, taking his place."_

 _"I happen to know someone who would disagree," Death sneered. "Service? Settling petty vendettas?"_

 _"No," Cas said. "I'm cleaning up one mess after another – selflessly."_

 _"Quite the humanitarian," Death mocked._

 _"And how would you know?" Cas asked, stepping closer. "What are you, really? A flyswatter?"_

 _"Destined to swat you, I think."_

 _"Unless I take you first."_

 _"Really bought his own press, this one," Death said, looking sideways at my brothers. "Please, Cas. I know God, and you, sir, are no God."_

 _"All right, put your junk away, both of you," Dean said, the nerves finally reaching him. "Look, call him what you want. Just kill him now!"_

 _"All right," Death said, raising his hand to smite Cas when, with nothing more than a click of his fingers, Castiel unbind him. "Thank you," he said, amused by the way things were going. "Shall we kickbox now?" As Castiel said nothing, Death stepped away and sat down on one of the couches. "I had a tingle I'd be reaping someone very, very soon. Don't worry," he told the frightened couple. "Not you."_

 _Dean, Sam and Bobby looked at each other with undisguised fear as Castiel disappeared._

 _"Well," Death said. "He was in a hurry."_

 _He reached out for the pickle chips, eating them slowly as he drank his smoothie. He didn't seem to pay any attention to the other occupants of the room, which clearly caused Dean much distress as he moved forwards to speak._

 _"Shut up, Dean," Death said. "I'm not here to tie your shoes every time you trip. I warned you about those souls how long ago? Long enough to stop that fool. And here we are again, with your little planet on the edge of immolation. On that note, however," he said, sighing. "I'm not going to kill you."_

 _"You're..." Dean was clearly surprised. "You're not?"_

 _"You have this..." Death mocked. "I'd call her your guardian angel but I think she'll be offended."_

 _"She?"_

 _"Yes," Death said. "She. She has been watching you for longer than you'd known. Who do you think put you on the plane when Lucifer was set free? Brought Castiel to life time after time?"_

 _"God?" Bobby questioned._

 _"She could be," Death said. "That was His initial plan. Though I don't believe she would take the job."_

 _What? Why hadn't anybody told me about this part of the Prophecy?_

 _"She was the one who helped you when Anna was trying to kill your parents. She faced the devil himself and walked away. She lived in a cabin for a year when Sam was soulless to keep an eye on Dean and took my ring for a day so you won't have to. And, once upon a time, Lucifer forced me to bring her back to life against her will. And she only asked for one thing in return."_

 _"What did she ask for?" Sam asked._

 _"That when the day comes, and you two would do something that will make me want to smite you from existence –" He marked at the room, as if displaying the situation to them. "– I would spare you."_

 _"So let me get this straight," Dean said. "You promised some chick you'll let us live, and you're actually doing it?"_

 _"I'm not one to break my promises," Death said coldly. "But I do ask you for one thing."_

 _"What?"_

 _"Get rid of that whiney brat that calls himself God." Death replied._

 _"You want us to kill Cas?"_

 _"Your only hope is to have him return it all to Purgatory," Death said, ignoring the side comment. "Quickly."_

 _"We need a door," said Sam._

 _"You have everything you need at that lab," Death informed him. "Get him to return there and compel him to give up the power."_

 _"Compel?"_

 _"Call her for help," Death said. "She helped creating this mess, she should help you fix it."_

 _"Call her?" Sam repeated. "We don't even know who is she."_

 _"And that door only opens in the eclipse, and that's over," Bobby added._

 _"The angels call her the Child of Creation," Death said. "I believe you've heard of her. As for the eclipse, I'll make another. 3:59, Sunday morning, just before dawn, be punctual. Don't thank me," he added when Dean opened his mouth. "Clean up your mess." He turned to leave, only to stop and look at Dean. "Try to bind me again, you'll die before you start. Nice pickle chips, by the way."_

 _And with that, he disappeared, leaving my brothers to turn and look at Bobby._

 _"So," Dean said, clapping his hands together. "What have we got about the Child of Creation?"_

* * *

"I knew this conversation would happen soon," I said as I replied to the call from Bobby's phone. "I just hoped it would be a while longer."

I was at Reid's apartment, both of us curled against each other while reading until my cellphone rang. Slowly, I stood up and walked to the other room where I wouldn't disturb him and have some privacy.

"Am I on speaker?" I asked.

"No," Bobby replied. "But only because after everything, I feel like I owe you the benefit of the doubt. And let me tell you this – that's one heck of a benefit."

"What do you want me to say?" I questioned.

"That this is nothing other than the world's biggest coincidence," Bobby said. "That you haven't been lying to me for as long as I think you were – that you're not the friggin' Child of Creation!"

"And if I can't?" A heavy sigh was heard from the other end of the line. "How did you figure it out?"

"We started making a list of everything we know about the Child of Creation," Bobby said. "And things just added up. Friends with Gabriel, knows Cas, lost her husband and daughter during the Apocalypse, lived in a cabin outside the town Dean lived in while Sam was soulless."

"Did Sam remember meeting me back then?" I asked.

"You met with him?" Bobby asked. "Did you know he was soulless?"

"I knew there was something wrong," I said carefully. "I didn't know what, but when I found out I did everything I could to help."

"Taking Death's ring for a day," Bobby said in understanding.

"And making sure Balthazar was on our side," I added, thinking about the angel who now resumed his Clyde Easter alias in order to stay alive.

"You helped so much," Bobby told me. "Help out a little more."

"I can't," I said.

"Why?" Bobby asked. "Because it involves meeting Dean and Sam?"

"Exactly," I replied. "What am I supposed to tell them?"

"Just tell them the truth."

"I know I didn't do a lot to earn it, but I need you to trust me right now," I said. "Telling them the truth is a bad idea."

"Then don't speak to them," Bobby said. "Speak to Cas. Convince him to come."

The silence hung in the air for a moment before I replied.

"And if I won't?"

"I thought you might say that," Bobby sighed, before talking to someone who was on his end of the line. "Do it."

A weird feeling overcome me, as if an invisible rope is tied around me, and someone was pulling me towards them. I took a moment to disguise myself before succumbing to the feeling and finding myself in Bobby's basement.

"Did it work?" I heard Dean's voice asking.

"She's here," the unmistakable voice of Crowley replied. "Hello, love."

 _Was that really necessary?_ I asked.

"You wouldn't come on your own," Bobby started to explain, but I cut him off.

 _Not now,_ I said. _The grownups are talking._

"Mind your tone, girl."

 _Mind my tone?_ I asked. _You're the ones who summoned me. I didn't even know I can be summoned._

"Neither did we," Sam said. "We just sort of… took our chances and it work."

 _How did you do it?_

"A bit of Angel summoning and a bit of Pagan God summoning," Crowley said. "Ninety percent hunch, ten percent recipe."

 _One heck of a hunch,_ I said. _Seeing as the both of us don't really want to be here, can we end with it already?_

"My pleasure," Crowley said. "Castiel got some extra mojo we want gone. Your job is to bring him to the warehouse on 3:59am Sunday morning, right before dawn."

 _And then my debt to you is cleared?_ I asked.

"You'll owe me nothing," he confirmed.

 _I don't suppose I have some sort of say in all of this, do I?_ I questioned.

"Pretty _and_ clever," Crowley commented.

 _Consider it done,_ I told all four of them. _Dean and Sam. Bobby. I suppose I'll see you Sunday morning._

"You could always stay longer than just dropping Cas off," Bobby said.

 _I don't think so,_ I retorted. _Crowley – any chance you'll give me a lift home?_

"With pleasure," Crowley replied, and with the blink of an eye I was back in Spencer's apartment and he was gone.

"Let me guess," Spencer said, looking at me from the other side of the kitchen counter. "You gotta go."

"I'll be back Sunday morning," I replied, grabbing my coat and keys. "And then we can continue from the point we stopped."

"I'll see you then," Spencer said, planting a short kiss on my lips.

"Can't wait," I replied, leaving the apartment.

* * *

Sunday morning arrived and I found myself standing with Castiel, who was not as reluctant as I thought he would be but wouldn't let go of my hand, my brothers, who were trying to replicate the spell used to open Purgatory and Bobby, who was constantly sending glares to where my invisible form was.

Sam had just gone to bring the blood jar from the supply closet as Castiel broke down, falling to the ground. I sat down next to him, allowing him to put his head on my shoulder all while feeling like I was doing something wrong.

I wasn't with Cas anymore. There was something new starting with Spencer. And I will never know what that is if I won't move on.

"Hang in there," Bobby said softly. "Just a couple of minutes."

 _Where's Sam?_ I asked them. _It's go time._

Dean disappeared into the hall, and I could hear him calling for Sam but no reply came. He returned a minute later with the jar of blood, handing it over to Bobby.

"That's good enough," the older hunter said as he finished drawing the symbols and I helped Cas stand up in front of it.

"Okay, step right up, Cas," I said softly, helping him to his position before walking away.

"I'm sorry, Dean," Castiel said, looking at my brother before turning his eyes to where I was. "I'm so sorry."

Bobby read out the spell and the portal opened, white light coming out of Castiel and transferring into it. I waited impatiently until the last of souls left Castiel who had fallen on the floor and Dean and I ran towards him. Dean touched his face.

"He's cold," he said.

"Is he breathing?" Bobby asked.

"Maybe angels don't need to breathe," Dean offered in desperation.

"They do," I said, tears choking my throat as I stopped being invisible, the stress too much for me to hold. "He's gone, Dean."

"Damn it," he muttered, looking at the body. "Cas, you child. Why didn't you listen to me?"

I put Castiel's head in my lap and started stroking his hair.

"It's gonna be alright," I whispered. "Everything will be alright."

His wounds started healing and Dean gasped in surprise and anger.

"What are you?" he growled. "How did you do it?"

I opened my mouth to reply when Cas' eyes opened, that beautiful blue I've learned to know.

"It was not her who have done it," he said. "Do not harm her." I helped him up to a standing position and he shook his head slightly. "That was unpleasant." He looked around for a second. "I'm alive."

"Looks like," I laughed, tears in my voice.

"I'm astonished," he muttered, looking at himself. "Thank you – all of you."

"We were mostly just trying to save the world," Dean replied.

"I'm ashamed," Cas went on. "I really overreached."

"You think?" I asked.

"I'm gonna find some way to redeem myself to you," Cas promised, grasping my hand in his.

"Forgotten and forgiven." I said quietly, trying my best not to look into these deep, blue eyes.

"All right, well, one thing at a time," Dean said. "Come on. Let's get you out of here."

Castiel nodded, moving to step forwards before gasping and stepping back.

"You need to run now!" he called out. "I- I can't hold them back!"

"Hold who back?" I asked, scared.

"They held on inside me," he muttered. "Oh, they're so strong."

"Who the hell –"

"Leviathan!" Cas cut Dean off. "I can't fight them. Run! Go! Go get Sam!"

I turned to run but his hold of my hand tightened. I look to see his pupils turned black.

"No!" I called. "Cas, fight it! I know you can!"

"Cas is," the thing that controlled Cas chuckled. "He's gone. He's dead. We run the show now." He looked down at my hand, still intertwined with his as black lines started crawling up his neck and to his face. "Oh, this is going to be so much fun."

It flew Dean over to hit a wall and Bobby on a desk. It then looked at me and smiled but the smile shifted to a pained expression. Black eyes turned blue again and he let go of my hand. I took the moment to step out of the monster's reach and to check on Dean.

The monster took control again, clearly agitated, but instead of starting a mess like I thought it would, it looked at us.

"How many of you bitches are in there?" I asked, stepping away from it and towards my brother. "A hundred? More?"

Dean looked at Cas' hand, where black goo started dripping. "Your vessel's gonna explode, ain't it?" he asked. "Wouldn't do anything too strenuous. In fact, I'd call it a day, head on home." He laughed, but there was no real humor to it.

"We will be back for you," it said in Cas' voice, looking at me before walking out the door.

"Well," Bobby muttered. "This is a new one."

"Who are you?" Dean asked, looking at me. I knew he couldn't see my face from where he was looking, but he must have seen it fleetingly during the mess that had just occurred.

"No," I whispered.

"We deserve to know!" Dean called. "After all of the shit we've been through, I deserve to know who the hell you are. For real."

"You already know," I whispered, leaning in next to Bobby and fixing the cut he had on his forehead. "You just don't want to believe it."

Dean looked like he wanted to shout at me before he remembered something. "Sam," he said, pulling himself up and running to the hallway. "Sam!" he shouted and suddenly, our brother is in view.

"Are you good?" Dean asked.

"Yeah," Sam replied, before noticing me. "Diana."

"What?" Dean's head turned.

"Now is not the time," I interrupted, choking back the tears. "We need to find Cas."

"He can be anywhere," Bobby said and I smiled bitterly.

"You can say I have this... Cas Radar." The boys looked confused and Bobby frowned. "Long story," I dismissed, running outside and passed Darlin. At the sight of the motor, Dean's face lit with realization, but I ignored it and marked them to follow me.

I followed where Castiel's piece of Grace directed me until we reached a pond-like water resource, just as the creature stepped in. I tried to run towards it, but Bobby held me still.

We watched, unable to do anything as Castiel disappeared underwater. A moment passed before a pulse of the black material came from the center of the lake to the edges of the water.

Bobby let go of me and I stumbled forward until I reached a bush at the shore.

I grabbed the all-too-familiar trench coat, held on to it and cried.


	10. Keep From Crying

**A/N:** **So so sorry about the long wait! I thought that I'd have more time now that I'm done with my studies but apparently it only means I work more... To make up for that, I wrote an extra long chapter :)**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or Criminal Minds.**

* * *

 **"Baby, you don't know,  
You don't know my mind.  
When you see me laughing,  
I'm laughing just to keep from crying."  
Hugh Laurie, ****_Don't know my mind._**

"Diana, we gotta move."

Bobby stood behind me. I was on my knees, still holding Cas' trench coat. The tears dried on my face, replaced by emotional numbness, and I tried my hardest to shut the world out as I forced myself to stand up.

"I'm going," I heard myself saying as my feet took me towards where I parked Darlin.

"You can't go," someone - was it Dean? - said. "You literally just came back."

"I have no more reason to stay," I replied. My mind was taking me to that last resort I went to when I first met Cas, but every memory of him was just too painful. "And I have people to go to."

"Peanut..." Bobby started.

"Everybody I know dies." My voice broke.

"That's not -"

"I am sick of it!" I nearly screamed, finally letting the emotion come out. "I am sick, and tired of loving people only to lose them. I have worked my ass off, and what did it give me? Nothing!"

"It's exactly the opposite of what Cas would -"

"I don't care about what Cas wanted!" I said as the tears started dripping from my eyes. "I... I told him to work with Crowley. Pushed him towards it from stupid, selfish reasons and now he's... he's dead and it's all my fault. I just... I can't..." I felt the last bit of energy leaving my body. "I can't lose more people."

"But you will," Dean said. "What?" he said in response for the look Sam was giving him. "Life sucks and people die."

"He's right, Peanut," Bobby nodded. "Most of your friends are Feds. The rest are hunters. You will lose people. The only question is if you're gonna let it stop you from living or are you gonna show the world you just don't care anymore?"

"That's the problem, Uncle Bobby," I whispered. "I don't care anymore."

He sighed and rolled his eyes. "Of course that's what you take from my speech, not the motivation parts," he said.

I stood there in silence, waiting for the shivering to stop but it didn't.

"Peanut, you know I hate to ask but I got to," Bobby broke the silence. "Jennifer?"

I looked at him, water blurring my view again.

"Who's Jennifer?" Dean asked and I burst into tears.

Big hands wrapped me into a comforting hug and I cried into it as Dean picked me up and started carrying me away. From what felt like a huge distance, I could hear him talking.

"Sam, you take the motor, we'll take Baby. Meet us at Bobby's." From the shifting in his head I could only assume he turned to look at the older man. "You've got some explaining to do."

We walked to where we parked and at the sight of Darlin, my head cleared.

"The team," I mumbled.

"I'll call Dave," Bobby suggested.

"No," I said softly, still not managing enough energy to call out, the way I wanted to. "Call Hotch. He'll tell the others."

"I really think Dave will know what to do, Peanut," Bobby said, ignoring the confused looks on my brothers' faces.

"Dave will leave everything and come here," I said. "And that's the last thing I need right now."

I saw Sam wanted to ask something, but Dean marked him not to. Silently, he put me in the backseat of the Impala and drove away, Sam following close after on Darlin.

We hadn't exchanged a single word on the way, but the moment we arrived at Bobby, Sam couldn't hold it any longer.

"Who's Dave?" he asked. "Or Hotch? And what is that thing with Jenna?"

The name of my daughter cleared what little fog I had left, pulling me into reality.

"What do you remember of the year you were soulless?" I asked.

"Not much," Sam replied. "I remember things I've done, and I remember some of the creatures I fought." He paused. "I remember you."

"I was living in a cabin outside the town Dean was living with Lisa," I said. "Made sure nothing supernatural bothered with him having a life. But, to be honest, the story started even before that."

"How long before that?"

"When we were teenagers," I replied. "I had... have this dreams."

"Dreams of what?" Dean asked.

"You," Bobby replied. "She was dreaming of what was happening to you."

"Once I fell asleep, I started living the life you live," I said. "I was living your life with you, every minute of my sleep."

"How thoroughly?" Sam asked.

"You already know the answer," I said, shivering at the mere memory of that time. "When Dean was in Hell, I... I went to sleep and lived a whole day in Hell, unable to move, scream or even beg, only to wake up and find out I slept for barely five minutes. And at a certain point, I couldn't take it any longer. I tried to kill myself," I explained, skipping over my addiction and ignoring the look on Bobby's face. He, of course, knew nothing of that part. "I sat on the bathroom floor, ready to make that cut when Castiel appeared. He told me it would end soon and forced me to sleep. That was the night you were pulled out."

"Why did he save you?" Sam asked.

I thought about the prophecy and all that came with it. "I don't know." I lied. "But starting this point, my life got back to how they were before. I met a man, fell in love, got engaged..." I paused for a moment, the memories of Daniel being too hard for me to bare. "And I cheated on him – repeatedly – with Cas."

"I already knew that," Sam muttered, rubbing his head. "When I was possessed by Lucifer, I…"

"He gave us an opportunity to talk to each other," I reminded him. "It was… weird, and sad, and disorienting."

"So you and Cas were… what?" Dean asked.

"Lovers, dating…" I sighed. "It doesn't matter how you call it. You just need to know what it led to."

"Jenna," Bobby said as understanding dawned him. "Balls."

"Can somebody please tell me who the hell is Jenna?" Dean asked.

I looked at him, trying to stop the tears from rising to my eyes once again at the thought that he never knew her. "Your niece."

"A niece?" Sam asked. "We've got a niece? You..." he looked at Dean, then at Bobby and me again. "You have a child?"

"Had," I whispered.

"What?" Dean asked.

"Had a child," I said. "You knew the Child of Creation lost her kid and husband. The fact that I'm the Child of Creation doesn't change it."

"Who?" Dean said in a voice that promised sorrow.

"Raphael," I replied. "That was one of the reasons I told Cas he should…" once again, I couldn't bring myself to finish that sentence, instead looking down at my feet.

"This is for Jenna," Sam said in understanding. "That was what Cas said right before he killed Raphael."

"Cas did a lot of things in the name of vengeance over what the other angels did," I said bitterly. "Most of them weren't right."

"Wait," Dean said, looking thoughtful. "If you and Cas dated, so when he was God, you were –"

"His ex," I replied. "I cut it off with Castiel as soon as he broke the wall in Sam's head."

"You took my place in the deal with Death," Dean said. "You saved our lives…"

"Almost as often as my actions threatened it," I retorted. "Let's not keep score, alright?"

"Sorry," Dean said. "It's just… It's a lot to comprehend."

"I think we should all sleep over it," Bobby cut in. "It's been a rough night, and we all could use some rest."

"I'll be in my room," I said, standing up and leaving.

"Diana!" Dean called out after me, and I turned to look at him. "This conversation isn't over."

"I know," I said sadly, turning my back at him once more and entering my room.

* * *

I waited until no sounds were heard from the corridor before I snuck out. I wasn't sure if the others were sleeping or just talking about me downstairs, but either way I had enough experience in my teen years with running away from Bobby's house and – though to a lesser degree – sneaking back in.

It didn't take much to find what I was looking for. I found it in the first Pharmacy I entered, and walked out of it less than five minutes with a lighter wallet but a heavier heart.

I snuck back in, making sure I wasn't seen, and set the package on my bedside table. Then, I took a long, hot shower to try – unsuccessfully – to wash off the previous night and calm myself enough so that my conscious would stop screaming at me for being an idiot – both for what I've done and for what I was about to do.

I finished the shower and walked out, changing to a pair of shorts and a tight tank top, before reopening the package.

Dilaudid. It's been so long since I took it willingly. About four years, if my counting was not mistaken. Carefully, I took a syringe and inserted the drug into it, the action followed closely by preparing my arm.

I heard sounds coming from downstairs – someone arrived and was calling out in a familiar voice – but I pushed it to the back of my mind. I didn't flinch when footsteps ran up the stairs, only positioning the syringe for the injection and didn't even blink when the door burst open.

The voice that spoke stopped me, though.

"Diana," it said slowly. "Put it down."

"I thought you agreed to call Hotch," I told Bobby. Despite the fact that my back was facing the door, I knew he and my brothers were there.

"No," Bobby said. "I agreed not to call Dave."

"Diana, put the syringe down," Spencer said once more, causing me to tilt my head and look at him.

The syringe stayed right where it was, only a thin layer of skin stopping it from entering my vein.

"Or what?" I asked, my voice lacking all emotion. "I have nothing to lose anymore, Spence, and I… I just want to sleep."

"So sleep," he replied. "You don't need this to sleep."

"But I do need it to forget," I said. "Because when I'm awake, I remember, and even if I'll fall asleep…"

 _Even if I fall asleep, Dean, Sam and Bobby wouldn't,_ I finished silently. _And they'll talk. They'll talk about me. About Cas._

"I need to forget," I said again. "And this is the only thing that helps."

"So stop trying to forget," Spencer said. "I told you weeks ago, you're pushing it to the back of your mind and then it explodes. It already had, and now you're turning on drugs again."

"You did say that," I agreed. "And then you helped me forget. Do you want to help me forget again, Spencer?"

"You need to sort yourself out," Spencer replied instead. "You'll go to a thousand meetings, go to a therapist if that's what it takes. I'm not doing anything before you do."

"Well, I am," I muttered, focusing back on the needle.

"Then I'll tell Hotch," Spencer said determinedly. "And Rossi, and Morgan, and Garcia, and Strauss, if that's what it takes. You're my best friend, Chessi and, as your best friend, I refuse to let you throw away everything you've worked for."

"I don't need to throw it away," I said, choking back tears. "It's already gone."

"Is it?" he questioned. "Because, the way I see it, you have two families that would do anything for you. One that is right outside this door waiting for you to get yourself together, and another that is on the edge of their seats, waiting for a call from me – a call I'm not going to make until I'm certain you're alright."

"Well, I'm not alright!" I called. "And I won't be! It's all my fault! If I wasn't the Child of Creation, Raphael wouldn't have killed Jenna and Daniel, and then Cas wouldn't have worked with Crowley to revenge her death!"

"Jenna was a Nephilim," Spencer said softly. "I know it's hard to hear, but they would have killed her either way."

"Then it's still my fault, for being stupid enough to get pregnant from an angel."

"Chessi…"

A warm hand touched my shoulder, and I felt the needle fall from my hand and dropping to the floor. Without thinking, I turned around and grasped the back of Spencer's t-shirt as I sobbed for all I have lost, and for all that I missed.

I cried for running away when I was eighteen, and for not contacting my brothers before. I cried for my relationship with John, and for how I almost didn't have the chance to fix it before it was too late. I cried for Tobias Hankle and Charles, and for the scars – physical and mental – they left both in me and in Spencer.

I cried for Ash, my first love, and for not being able to stop his death. I cried for Daniel, my husband, and all the lies I told him. I cried for Jenna, who was so young when she died and who never had the chance of having the life she deserved. And, most of all, I cried for Cas.

I cried for Cas, unable to shake the feeling that it was my fault he had gone after Raphael. I cried for Cas, and what he had become when he swallowed all of the souls from Purgatory. I cried for Cas, and for not having the chance to fix what had broken between us before he was gone again, this time irretrievable – because I tried so hard to bring him back like I did in the last two times, and failed.

And, eventually, I ran out of tears.

Spencer laid me down on my bed, soothing me to sleep, but almost as soon as my eyes closed I was in Dean's mind, watching Spencer and myself on the bed.

 _"What the hell was that?" Sam asked. "Dee… Diana's doing drugs?"_

 _"If you want to talk about your sister behind her back, wait until she's awake," Spencer said, looking straight at me through Dean's eyes. "Not until she's asleep."_

 _"Why?" Dean asked._

 _"She must have told you about her dreams," Spencer told them. "She sees and hears everything you see or hear right now." He waved at Dean's direction, and I couldn't help but smile inwardly – since it was the only option – knowing it was directed to me._

 _"You look familiar," Sam said, rubbing his temple. "Have we met before?"_

 _"Right after the Apocalypse started," Spencer replied, ushering them out of my room. "Daniel and I came to pick her up from Chuck's."_

 _"But who are you?" Dean asked. "I mean, I get it that you look familiar, and I vaguely recognize your name, but who are you to Diana?"_

 _"The one she tells everything to," Spencer replied simply. "Also known as her best friend."_

 _"Best friend?" Dean questioned. "Diana doesn't do best friends."_

 _"You would know so well seeing as you barely spoke to her in the past fourteen years," Spencer retorted, echoing my thoughts. "She had changed. She's a different person. The Diana you used to know isn't Chessi."_

 _"No," Dean said bitterly. "Apparently, 'Chessi' is the friggin Child of Creation who had seen us about a dozen times and refused to let us know who she was."_

 _"She had a family," Spencer said._

 _"She didn't contact us even after her family died," Sam said._

 _"I wasn't talking about Daniel and Jenna," Spencer replied. "I was talking about our team. Hotch, JJ, Morgan, Garcia, Rossi –"_

 _"Rossi?" Dean asked. "David Rossi, who was Mom's friend? David Rossi, who came to pick her up after the case with the baby Shapeshifter?"_

 _"Dave Rossi, who is your Godfather," Spencer told him. "And who is trying very hard to make up the lost time to her."_

 _"But not to us?"_

 _"He's doing his best," Spencer sighed. "And it's very hard for him, so a little more appreciation in his name would be nice."_

 _"Appreciation?" Sam asked. "Where was he when Dad took us on hunts and left Dean and Diana in a motel room with some extra cash and a gun?"_

 _"Using every FBI resource he could get his hands on trying to locate you," Spencer replied curtly. "Now, Dean, Diana is sleeping, and I'm pretty sure that she doesn't really appreciate the fact that this conversation is happening without her. So do you mind going to sleep?"_

 _"Why?" Dean mocked. "Because if I sleep, she sees my dreams?"_

 _"Exactly."_

 _Dean raised an eyebrow, but headed towards his room nonetheless. From behind him, I could hear Bobby telling Spencer they've got a lot to talk about, and the sound of a door closing._

* * *

When I woke up, I didn't open my eyes right away. I knew who was sitting at my bedside, and I knew I wasn't in the right state to deal with him – if I'll ever be. Between my exhaustion and my grief yesterday, I revealed more than was healthy for my brothers to comprehend in such a small period of time, and Spencer filled in the rest.

I laid there for what felt like hours – though I knew no more than a couple of minutes had passed, at most – before giving up and opening my eyes. It was the very early hours of morning, and the sun was only starting to light the sky.

"Hey," I said hoarsely, letting Dean know I was awake.

I was expecting some sort of witty reaction along the lines of, "Good morning sleeping beauty," which was why I was more than a bit surprised to receive nothing more than an echoed, hoarse, "Hey."

I stayed silent for a couple more moments, waiting for him to say something before asking, rather stupidly, "How are you?"

"I've been better," Dean shrugged nonchalantly, though poison was lacing his voice. "After all, it's not every day that my best friend betrays me, loses his sanity, dies and then resurrected for just long enough for him to release human eating monsters from before the dawn of history into the water main – and then dies again."

I cringed at the mention of Castiel and his actions – most of which caused by things I've told him, our daughter of the fact that I was the Child of Creation. It was hard not to blame myself for everything that happened, especially since it was, after all, my fault.

"Then," Dean went on, perhaps oblivious to the way his words affected me and perhaps simple not caring, "I found out that my twin sister – whom I haven't seen in close to fourteen years – had been lying to me and actively hiding who and what she was, even when she was

right in front of me. All while sleeping with said best friend."

"I never meant to –" I started, but Dean cut me off.

"And, if we're glazing through her dead husband and kid, her past drug addiction and the fact she's sleeping with _her_ best friend, as well, we still got Sam thinking he's still in the Cage. So, yeah," Dean summed up bitterly. "I've had better days."

He looked at me, clearly waiting for a response now that he finished his ranting but every retort I had in mind during his speech had been completely wiped out.

"Sam thinks he's still in the Cage?" I asked, earning myself an annoyed glare from my brother.

"Yeah," he replied. "He's been a bit off ever since Cas broke the wall, and Death said he's been having hallucinations but he seemed fine –"

"He had something to focus on," I muttered. "It delayed the symptoms, releasing them in small doses – the hallucinations. Now that he lost focus, it's gonna get a lot harder."

"And how do you know that?" Dean asked. "Did you become an expert on supernatural walls in your mind during the fourteen years you've been missing?"

"Actually, I have," I retorted. "Having a wall break down in your brain kinda makes you an expert."

"You had a wall breaking in your head?" Dean questioned. "How did _that_ happen?"

"Lilith," I replied shortly.

"Lilith put a wall in your head?" Dean asked, confused.

"Lilith _broke_ the wall in my head," I corrected. "John put it there."

"What? Why?"

"Lilith." Dean looked at me oddly and I sighed. "There was a reason John left me at Bobby's," I said. "She possessed me and showed him just how vulnerable I was. I had nightmares, so he saw a mage to build a wall in my mind before dropping me here and driving away."

"You and I both know it wasn't that simple," Dean scolded.

"I know it now," I said. "I didn't know it when I was twelve. Or eighteen, for that matter."

"What did you focus on after Lilith broke the wall?" Dean asked.

"Ash died, you sold your soul and was heading towards Hell and you, Sam and Bobby didn't answer any of my calls," I replied. "That, and Gideon – who was practically Spencer and my mentor – left."

"Well, it wasn't such a peachy time for us, too," Dean grunted.

"Never said it was," I said. "But I'm still allowed to be mad at you for not answering."

"I can still be mad at you for not calling sooner," he retorted. "Or later, for that matter." He sighed. "Can you fix Sam's wall?"

"No," I replied simply. "This is way beyond what Gabe taught me, and I don't think it would be smart to start messing with Sam's head without knowing what I'm doing."

"What did _Gabe_ teach you, anyway?" Dean asked, stretching the nickname in his mouth mockingly. "You know, except telepathy, becoming invisible and _lying_?"

"All sorts," I said, opening my palm and handing Dean the fruit I just created from thin air. "Want an apple?"

The only response I received was a groan, followed by my twin's departure from the room.

I sighed, pulling myself out of the bed and looking through the clothes in my closet. Most of what I had in there were clothes I wore as a teen, but as my choice of clothes then was quite similar to what it was now – long jeans and a unisex t-shirt – I managed to find clothes that weren't too small and headed to the shower.

As the burning hot water poured over my head, I thought about my disturbed sleep last night and realized that it wasn't all because of the events that came earlier, but also because of the fact that I wasn't used to sleep alone.

Ever since I started seeing Daniel, almost four years ago – the thought of him still stung – I was sharing my bed with someone. At first, it was him, and later it moved between him and Castiel. There was, of course, the time I spent in the parallel universe during the Apocalypse, but after that, I had Cas again.

I had Cas during the last days of the Apocalypse. I had Cas when Sam was in the Cage and Dean lived with Lisa. Even after I returned to the team, the only times I didn't spend the night with Cas was when I shared a room – and later a bed – with Spencer.

Spence. The thought made me feel ashamed of myself. At the bottom line, I used him to forget about my troubles, and I didn't even have the decency to tell him about it before yesterday.

One more name to add to the list of people I hurt with my selfishness – Dean, Sam, Ash, Cas, Bobby…

I sighed again. I didn't even want to think about Bobby.

I finished the shower and dressed myself before walking downstairs and entering the kitchen. As soon as Dean and Bobby saw me, they became silent.

"I see you're taking the whole 'Waiting until I'm awake to talk about me behind my back' seriously," I said, pouring myself a cup of coffee and briefly wondering where Spencer was.

"We'd rather not have to talk about you behind your back at all," Bobby said gruffly.

"Why am I finding that hard to believe?" I muttered.

"You're the one who hid the fact that she was the friggin Child of Creation from us," Dean retorted.

"I didn't think you'd want me there if you knew it was me," I said, only half-lying. "After all, you _did_ avoid me before you went to Hell."

"I'm so sorry it took nine years and selling my soul for you to start caring about me," Dean said sarcastically.

"I always cared about you," I told him. "You're the one who never cared about me."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"You keep giving me a hard time for not being there for you," I said. "You weren't there for me even when I was here."

"That's not true," Dean protested.

"I have six years of living at the Salvage Yard to prove differently," I said.

"Would the two of you stop it already?" Bobby cut in impatiently. "You're family, for crying out loud! Start acting like one!"

"I always –"

"No, you didn't," Bobby told Dean. "And neither has she." He sighed. "I know that fourteen years are a long time. Trust me, I know. But you guys gotta live through it. If not for each other, then for me – and if not for me, then for Sam."

"I want to get through with it already," I muttered. "But only if he's going to try as well." I looked at my brother, unable to hide the hope in my eyes. "Will you try as well?"

Dean was silent for a couple of moments before opening his mouth to respond. However, before he could let a single sound out, Spencer walked into the kitchen.

"The team is on the line," he told me shortly, avoiding my eyes. "Apparently, there's something important we need to hear."

I sighed, following him as he left the room without looking back at Dean. I wasn't sure if I wanted to hear his response.

* * *

"She's here," Spencer said into the phone speaker as we stood in Bobby's study.

From the corner of my eye, I could see Dean standing in the doorway and listening in, but I pushed it to the back of my mind.

"Who else is missing?" Morgan asked.

"Garcia and Hotch," Rossi replied.

"Anybody knows what with the morning call?" I questioned.

"Not a clue," Seaver shrugged.

"How are you?" Rossi asked, and from the fatherly tome he used I knew, even through the phone, that he was addressing me.

"I've been worse," I shrugged.

"he haven't been worse," Spencer cut in, earning himself a m=smack at the ribs. "Ow!" he called. "She hit me!"

"Kids," Morgan said, a note of amusement to his voice. "Behave."

"Don't fake it, darling," I told him with a smile. "I learned all of my best tricks from you."

He laughed as the sound of am=n opening door was heard, followed by Garcia's "Where's Hotch?"

"Any minute," Rossi replied.

"I didn't get a file sent to me," she said. "Did a case go directly to him?"

"Don't know."

"When's the last time he called a meeting this early?" Seaver asked.

"Three years and eight months ago," Spencer replied immediately, the information etched into his brain.

"What happened?" she asked.

Spencer was silent for a moment and I reached out to grasp his hand, taking comfort in the fact he let me.

"Gideon left," I said, pressing Spencer's hand as I felt him stiffen next to me.

"Who's leaving?" Garcia asked, sounding scared.

"Surprisingly, not me," I said in a half-hearted attempt to lighten the mood.

" _Nobody's_ leaving," Morgan said sternly, and silence followed this statement until Hotch walked into the room.

"I appreciate you coming in so early," he said. "Chessi… I'm sorry for your loss."

"Don't mention it," I said quickly. "Seriously, don't."

"What's going on?" Rossi asked.

"The director called a meeting last night to discuss budget," Hotch replied.

"They skipped over Strauss?"

"She's away," Hotch said shortly. "Over the next few weeks, each of you is going to be asked if you'd like to stay with the unit."

"Why wouldn't we?" Spencer asked.

"There are other options for you out there," Hotch explained. "And while I want the unit to stay together, I understand completely if you want to see what the alternatives are. Morgan, there's renewed interest in you from the New York office."

"Nobody's called me," Morgan said, confused.

"They will," Hotch told him. "And Chessi – I've been contacted from the undercover unit about you."

"You have?" I asked. "Why didn't you tell me about it?"

"You were… away."

"That doesn't mean we're gonna go," Morgan said.

"I know," Hotch replied.

"Are you staying here?" Seaver asked.

"It's my intention," he said. "All I ask is if you are contacted by another division that you let me know."

I looked at Spencer, confused and in shock as we both heard Hotch answering another phone call from the other end of the line.

"Virginia State Police believe they've uncovered a serial killer," he said as he hung up. "They need us at Zacha Road and Route Seven as soon as possible. Morgan, you and Dave get out there."

"What about this?" Rossi asked.

"We can talk about it later," Hotch sighed before the sound of ruffling papers and moving chairs was heard, and the call disconnected.

Spencer looked at me for a moment before moving his eyes down to stare at our intertwined hands.

"We stay together," I said. "No matter what."

"No matter what," Spencer agreed quietly, his statement followed by a comfortable silence that was broken only when Dean spoke.

"Go," he told me. "I know you want to go. Your family needs you."

"You guys are my family," I told him.

"That we are," Dean said, his eyes darting to look at Spencer for a moment before returning to me. "But we're not the only one anymore."

I let go of Spencer's hand, throwing my arms around Dean in a hug he returned somewhat awkwardly.

"Thank you," I whispered in his ear.

"Don't mention it," he replied. "Seriously, don't."


	11. Sorry, Sorry, Sorry

**A/N:** **Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry.**

 **I know there's no good excuse for not updating for so long, but I'm gonna tell you guys anyways: I got a denial on my application for Medical school, signed in for and started a degree in Biology, celebrated my mum, dad and brother's birthdays as well as my own while living off four hours of sleep per night while dealing with the** ** _worst_** **writer's block I had** ** _ever_** **had.**

 **I have almost all of next chapter written, but the last scene is giving me troubles...**

 **And if that wasn't enough, my computer decided it no longer wants to works, and I only just got it back after a week.**

 **Now, the good thing that came out of this is that I've have parts of the next chapter written, and have decided to share one of those with you to help you get by :)**

 **WARNING: The following scene has no context whatsoever other than the fact that it's during the next chapter and there isn't much plot in it. Ye be warned.**

"If there is anything you are going to learn about me," I said, "It's that I always stand by my actions."

"Even if they were wrong?" he questioned.

"I don't see a point in viewing my decisions as right or wrong in retrospective," I said. "What's done is done. I trust my instincts and will stand by them."

"Interesting," the Senator mused. "Maybe we really _should_ open an investigation about you."

* * *

 **A/N#2:** **If any of you are reading any of my other stories, you'll notice I published similar messages in them, as well.**


	12. Secrets and Lies

**A/N:** **Wow. That was one heck of a hard chapter to write. Still happy I got it done :)**

 **In case there's anybody here reading any of my other stories, I'm working on them but I really don't know when I'll next upload a chapter. In the meanwhile, I hope you'll enjoy this one.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or Criminal Minds.**

* * *

 **"Don't wait for a light to appear at the end of the tunnel,  
stride down there and light the bloody thing yourself."  
Sara Henderson**

"Please state your name and job for the record."

"SSA Diana Chess," I said, looking directly at the Senator who spoke.

"Born January 24th, 1979 to John Winchester and Mary Winchester nee Campbell?" he questioned, looking through the papers in front of him.

"Yes," I confirmed.

"How long have you been working for the BAU?"

"Seven years, including breaks."

"Yes…" he all but drawled. "Once when you were declared missing for three months and again when you took off for a year. Care to tell us what were you doing during that time?"

"I do not remember the months I was missing," I lied, "But I took the year off in order to deal with the loss of my husband and daughter."

"Who died the very same night in which you returned the first time," he stressed. "Quite a coincidence, wouldn't you think?"

"I'm sorry," I said through gritted teeth. "I was under the impression that I'm not here for questioning regarding my family's death."

"No," the Senator confirmed. "You are here regarding your involvement with the case of Ian Doyle and Emily Prentiss."

* * *

The sound of gunshots rang in the small perimeter of the shooting range as I emptied one gun magazine and then another. Next to me, Spencer did much of the same and I knew he'd insist I would dedicate an hour to physical training once we were done. My days settled into a routine of his making, and he made sure I would follow it closely.

So closely, that I moved in with him so he could keep a closer eye over me.

He made up a set of rules and informed the others of it, the five other people who worked with us making sure I don't break them. I was never to be an extended amount of time on my own and I went to meetings three days a week, in addition to physical training that exhausted me beyond comprehension and evening conversations with either my siblings or Bobby every night.

JJ had returned to the team and, with Morgan's insistence, I filled her in on the world of nightmares that was my brothers' lives. It wasn't an uncommon sight to see her sitting with Hotch as the two of them tried to understand how to raise a child when you know what is out there – or, at least, avoiding the key mistakes.

As Spencer and I finished shooting, we compared our results and each of us commented on the other's weak spots before heading back to the bullpen area to work on our current case and distract ourselves from overthinking everything that kept going wrong between us lately.

For even though we spent more time together than I had ever recalled, our relationship had never been in such a poor state. After Castiel's death, he seemed to lose most of his trust in me, and the worst part was that I couldn't even blame him for it.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Spencer asked as I prepared myself to walk into the interrogation room.

Though his voice still showed worry, I knew it had much more to do with trying to avoid getting me into situations that would cause regression in the progress we have made during the three months since my reunion with Dean and Sam. It bugged me to a certain level, but not enough to affect the current state of apathy that seemed to be my life since Cas died.

"Not in the slightest," I replied. "But I need to do this."

I walked into the room and waited by Morgan as two other agents brought in our latest subject – no other than Ian Doyle.

"Forgotten where I've been, Agents?" Doyle asked, an air of vanity and indifference to his voice. As if he couldn't care less that he was sitting before the two people who had found their dying friend – the woman he murdered. "Places far worse than this."

"Doyle, where's Declan?" I asked, still trying to give him a way out, or at least to calm myself in the belief that there was still hope for the boy Emily sold her soul – and later died – for."

"Don't play dumb," Doyle said, looking at Morgan. "You found him a month before I 's living in that lovely little house our friend set up for him." My hands tightened in anger at the mention of Prentiss, and a small smile crossed Doyle's face. "I should have found him remembered she likes cul-de-sacs."

"Where is Declan right now?" Morgan asked. "You expect me to believe you had nothing to do with his abduction?"

"And you expect me to believe this isn't part of the strategy?" Doyle retorted. "You tell me my son is missing when I know he was safe a few hours ago? You'll have to get more creative."

"Listen to me, you son of a bitch," Morgan said, leaning his hands on the table Doyle was cuffed to and looking even more intimidating than usual as he did so. "I am not playing games with you care about anybody other than yourself, you'll give me a list of who would have done this."

"Why would anyone take Declan?" Doyle questioned.

"You tell me," I said.

"No one even knows he exists."

"Well, apparently someone does," I told him. "Because when we followed you to that little rat trap, somebody took him from his house."

"Somebody else was watching you, Doyle," Morgan said. "Now tell me who."

"I don't know," Doyle replied, and I tried to ignore the parent part of my brain that recognized the small hints of distress on his face as he realized the threat on his son was real. "I don't."

"Your son is missing," I said, thinking back to everything I would have done if I had been given the chance to save Jenna. "So think."

"I don't know!"

* * *

"It was you and Agent Morgan who had found Agent Prentiss at the warehouse, correct?"

"Yes, sir," I replied calmly.

"And you chose not to pursue Doyle, but stay with her?" the Senator asked.

"I have," I confirmed.

"Why?"

"Because she was my friend," I replied, "and my teammate – which is as close to family as I have – and she was dying."

"You referred to your team as your family," the Senator said. "Is that normal, in your opinion?"

"It's normal for our team," I said. "We see each other as family."

"Not very healthy, is it?"

"I wouldn't know," I shrugged, half trying to alleviate some of the tension in the room and half being serious. "I was told that my family is not an example for anything."

"Yes…" he said. "The infamous Winchester brothers. You were interrogated for your connections to their actions a couple of years ago, weren't you?"

"I was taken for questioning about my non-existing relationship with them and was declared – both by my Unit Chief and by the Lead Detective on the case – innocence of all relations," I corrected sternly. "And we are, yet again, straying off the subject."

"My apologies," the Senator said, not sounding the least apologetic. "There are simply so many oddities I noticed by looking at your file."

"Which is why I feel obliged to remind you that this is not an interrogation about me," I said, my voice poisonously sweet.

"Maybe it should be," the Senator noted dully before moving on. "So, you interrogated Doyle along with Agent Morgan?"

"I have."

"And do you believe it was a smart decision?"

"If there is anything you are going to learn about me," I said, "It's that I always stand by my actions."

"Even if they were wrong?" he questioned.

"I don't see a point in viewing my decisions as right or wrong in retrospective," I said. "What's done is done. I trust my instincts and will stand by them."

"Interesting," the Senator mused. "Maybe we really _should_ open an investigation about you."

* * *

Hours after the investigation started, we still got nowhere with Doyle.

"I'm gonna ask you one last time," Morgan said, though I knew he, too, was starting to feel hopeless. "Who hates you enough to take him?"

"How long has it been?" Doyle questioned instead.

"Six hours," I said, not even looking at him.

"You've had your time to find him," Doyle reasoned. "Now let me have mine."

"That's not about to happen," I told him calmly, watching as Derek walked out of the room, outraged.

"You're calm," Doyle noted, looking at me. "Too calm."

"I've been through a lot," I said. "Is sort of toughen you up."

"Even to not blink at the mention of a young boy?"

"How old is Declan?" I questioned. "Eleven? Twelve?"

"Eleven and four months," Doyle replied.

"My daughter was six months old when I saw somebody run a knife through her body," I told him. "It toughen you up."

"Declan was dying, too," Doyle said. "As a child. The doctors said he wouldn't make it, but he did. They called it a miracle."

"You disagree?" I asked.

"I don't believe in angels," he replied.

"But you do believe in other things?" I questioned. "Monsters? Demons?"

"Every man has his faith," Doyle said. "What is your faith, Agent?"

"My faith is actually very simple," I told him. "I believe that I worked very, _very_ hard to keep Emily alive, and that you came by and ruined it in a heartbeat."

"Keep her alive from what?" he asked.

"He calls himself Crowley," I said. "You might not recognize the name, but what you do need to know is that Emily came to him over ten years ago with a dying child, and her soul for the offer."

"She sold her soul to a Demon to free Declan?" Doyle asked. "You honestly believe that?"

"Every man has his faith," I repeated his words. "You have yours, and I have mine, but I don't think they're that different from one another. The only difference is that I do believe in angels. They're not nearly as kind as people think they are."

"They killed your child," Doyle said. "Did you avenge them?"

"I did, in a way," I told him, feeling a buzz in my pocket that told me I received a text message. "But the price was too big." I looked at the message, seeing it was from Hotch, and my eyebrows shot up. "Doyle, do you consider Richard Gerace an enemy?"

"I don't consider him at all," Doyle said, indifferent to the sudden change in the topic of conversation.

"Tell me about him," I insisted.

"Gave him a nasty scar in Belfast 20 years ago," he shrugged. "Hasn't been _my_ problem since."

"Whose problem was he?" I asked, noting the emphasis he put on the word.

"She won't help," Doyle told me.

"Why not?" I asked, confused.

"Because I killed her."

* * *

"Were you surprised to find out Agent Prentiss was alive?" the Senator asked.

"That would be an understatement," I retorted.

"Why?"

"Because I saw how she was like after Doyle was done with her," I said. "I sat at the waiting room in the Hospital, waiting for news. I mourned her, and only just barely moved on when she came back."

"You have lost a lot –" the Senator started.

"Understatement," I muttered.

"– And yet you still found it hard to cope with Agent Prentiss' loss," he went on as if I hadn't interrupted. "Why?"

"It's always hard," I said. "Loss is _always_ hard, and nothing makes it easier. Not ever."

"Would you consider Agent Prentiss' loss harder than usual?"

"Not as hard as it was for me to discover my baby daughter is dead," I replied curtly. "And, unlike Emily, my family didn't come back."

* * *

"Seven months ago I made a decision that affected this team," Hotch told us as we sat in the conference room. "As you all know, Emily had lost a lot of blood after her fight with Doyle."

 _And she died,_ I thought. _And we lost a team member, a family member and a friend._

"But the doctors were able to stabilize her." My head shot up at Hotch's words. "And she was airlifted from Boston to Bethesda under a covert identity was strictly she stayed there until she was well enough to was reassigned to Paris where she was given several identities, none of which we had access to for her security."

"She's alive?" Garcia asked, tears in her eyes.

"But…" Reid said, shocked. "We buried her."

"As I said, I take full responsibility for the decision," was Hotch's response. "If anyone has any issues, they should be directed toward me."

"Any issues?" Derek asked. "Yeah, I got issues."

Hotch opened his mouth to response when he was distracted by something behind us all. Turning around, we saw Emily standing there, as if a day hadn't passed since we last saw her.

"Oh, my God," Garcia muttered.

Reid was the first to stand up, pulling her into a tight hug and Garcia and Rossi were not far behind.

"I am so sorry," Prentiss said. "I really a day went by that I didn't want to…" She saw Derek looking at her. "Really, I- you didn't deserve that." She looked right at me. "And I'm so sorry."

Something about the look she gave me told me it was for more than just faking her death. Something in the way she looked at me let me know that she knew about Castiel, and about everything I went through.

And somehow, knowing and understanding that made me angrier than I could've possibly imagined myself being. With two long strides, I closed the distance between us and punched her.

"I worked _so hard_ to get you off that deal," I said, my voice no more than a whisper. "I owed Crowley a debt for it – a debt that ended with me having to watch the man I love be possessed by creatures from before the dawn of man and then _die_." My voice broke. "And you say you're sorry?"

And without another word, I walked out of the room and back to the interrogation room, thinking I'd rather be locked in there with Doyle than face Emily right now.

"Hello again," he said as I walked in.

"Shut up," I muttered.

"That bad, is it?" he asked. "I mean, you were here with me for almost seven hours and you weren't that pissed. Who upset you like that?"

" _Shut up_ ," I repeated, my anger and hurt causing my disguise to fall for a second and allowing him a glimpse of what I usually kept hidden from everybody – even Spencer.

"Whoa," he said, before noticing the look I gave him. "Okay. Got it. Shutting up."

We waited there in silence for about ten minutes before Prentiss arrived, and the look on Doyle's face was something I imagined close to how I looked. Surprised, confused, and angry.

"Oh!" he said, looking between the scowl on my face and Prentiss' determined look. "Of course. Who else would wind someone up so easily?"

Ignoring him, Prentiss set up a series of photographs on the table.

"Which one is Declan's mom?" she asked.

"Chloe Donaghy," Doyle replied almost immediately. "But she had nothing to do with this."

"How do you know?" Prentiss questioned. "Did you kill her, too?"

The only look I ever saw that rivaled the hatred that was present on Doyle's face was the look on Castiel's face just before he killed Raphael. "Because she tried to kill Declan before he was ever born."

"Who were her contacts in the States?" I asked him, switching to profiler mode.

"Whoever they are, they're as good as dead," Doyle replied, and I was surprised to see not anger but disgust on his face. "She works her people, sucks 'em dry, and then… Moves on."

"She never wanted Declan, did she?" I asked.

"No."

"Why would she take him?" Prentiss questioned. "This is about you, just told me you kept her a prisoner for 9 months."

He didn't reply to her question or even looked at her, keeping his eyes on me.

"Did Louise help deliver Declan?" I tried.

"Yes."

Good. At least I'm not the only person in the room who is mad at Emily for what she has done.

"That's called revenge, Ian," Prentiss said. "Chloe didn't just forget about what you put her through."

"She would rather have been dead than to have my baby," Doyle said. "What was I supposed to do?"

"Chaining her to a bed wasn't the answer," Prentiss informed him.

"She received a lot of money for her troubles," he shrugged.

"That was torture, Ian."

"Don't you think she spent years figuring out how to do the same to you?" I asked him softly, knowing I was more likely to reach out to him than Emily was. "She took the only thing you else would she and Gerace have to gain from taking Declan?"

"Money," he said simply. "That's all she ever cared about."

Prentiss sighed, putting a blank sheet of paper and a pen in front of him. "We're going to need a list of everyone with the kind of money they're looking for, and anyone else who wants to hurt you."

* * *

"You were in favor of the plan to use Ian Doyle as bait to save Declan, weren't you?"

"I was," I confirmed.

"And you didn't think he would try to betray you all?"

"I know first hand the power of a parent's love," I said simply.

"You mean the power of a mother's love," the Senator corrected.

"A father's love is just as strong," I said. "And not nearly appreciated enough, especially when it comes to the safety of the child. A mother might do anything for her child to be happy, but the father would go to unimaginable lengths to make sure he's safe."

"And how well did that work for you?" he questioned. "Doyle is dead."

"Yes," I said. "A world-class criminal is dead, along with the leader of several prostitute rings and drug cartels and a dangerous hit-man."

"And two agents."

"Who had died due to Chloe Donaghy's plan to abduct her child. A plan that would have happened regardless of our actions, and would have probably been successful if we hadn't interfered."

"So you stand by your actions?" the Senator asked.

"I already told you, Senator," I said calmly. "I always stand by my decisions."

* * *

It wasn't until we walked out of the final interrogation after we were told that we were all dismissed that I allowed myself to break down on Spencer's shoulder.

"Let's go to the shooting range," he offered. "And then to the Gym. I think there's still time to fit a meeting tonight –"

"Don't," I said weakly. "Please, just stop."

"Chessi…" he started but I cut him off.

"I can't do this anymore," I said. "Shooting, practicing, meeting, calling my brothers or Bobby and then sleeping over at your place… Spence, I feel like I'm in jail."

"I'm doing this for you," he said. "If you'll stop, you'll relapse –"

"You almost relapsed four times since Emily supposedly died," I said. "I lost her, and Daniel, and Jenna, and Cas – I think I'm allowed to be a bit off for a while."

"Chessi, there's a reason why we set up this schedule," he reminded me.

" _You_ set up the schedule," I said. "Not me, but you. And you did it for all the right reasons, but you're not my best friend anymore, Spence. You're my prison guard."

"So wat do you want me to do?" he asked. "Do you honestly expect me to just let go and see you fall back down?"

"I want you to be my _friend_ ," I told him. "Spence, I spent more time with you in the past couple of weeks than I had in the year before, but I miss you. does that makes sense to you? Cause it sure doesn't to me."

"I just want to help you," he muttered.

"So help me," I said. "Watch Doctor who with me. Or… that other series?"

"Sherlock."

"That!" I said, a small smile crossing my lips. "Let's go to Moondoor again. Long nights at your apartment talking about Socrates and Shakespeare and Asimov and whatnot. What about that girl you went on a date with the other night?"

"She stood up on me," Spencer said.

"I'm sorry," I told him. "If she doesn't see how amazing you are, she's not worth your time anyway. But I should've known that, Spence." I looked at him. "I just miss my friend."

There was silence for a couple of seconds while I held my breath before Reid spoke again.

"Okay," he said, and my eyes rose to look at his. "Friends again. _Best_ friends again. Only this time, there will be no secrets, no hiding, no running away. Okay?"

"Okay," I promised, smiling softly at him before I heard a voice from behind me.

I turned to see one of the men who sat during my interrogation by the Congress Member.

"Yes," I said carefully. "Who's asking?"

"Agent Chris O'Connell, CIA." I tensed, reaching out and grabbing Spencer's hand. "May I have a word?"

"Can Spen – Agent Reid stay with me?" I asked.

O'Connell eyes Reid for a moment. "If he must," he said.

"He must," I replied, and O'Connell nodded. "What do you want?"

"To talk, mainly," O'Connell said. "You have quite the record on you. Came from a small community school and managed to build your way up to Harvard. You speak nine fluent languages and finished top of your class, but decided to work for the FBI."

"Is this a problem?" I asked.

"Not at all," O'Connell replied. "You have experience in working undercover, you hit rock bottom and climbed back up and you don't let your brother's actions stand in the way for what you want."

"Do you have a point coming any time soon or are you just going to keep telling me things I already know?" I asked. "Why are you here? Came to arrest me, or something of that sort?"

"Quite the opposite, Agent Chess," O'Connell said with a small smile. "I've come to offer you a job.

It would be an understatement to say I was more than a bit surprised.


	13. Guilty

**A/N: So... not dead! So sorry about the long time between updates (over a year which is _not_ cool, I know) but here's the new chapter. Sorry, but I honestly don't know when I'll be able to update next, since my life is pretty much hell at the moment.  
**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or Criminal Minds.**

* * *

 **"When truth is buried underground  
It grows, it chokes, it gathers such power  
That on the day it bursts out,  
It blows up everything with it."  
Emile Zola.**

"I'm just saying," Morgan said. "It doesn't make any sense."

"I will not have any of that," Garcia replied. "As if none of you received offers you declined."

"The CIA, though?" Prentiss asked. "That's a good job."

"You're coming a bit on the hypocrite side, Emily," JJ told her.

"As if you're not," Prentiss said. "You left, too."

"And I came back," JJ replied. "I can see where she's coming from."

"Will you stop it?" I heard Spencer hiss. "Chessi is our friend – she's a part of our _family_. She has the right to make any decision she wants, and I'm sure she wouldn't appreciate us talking about her behind her back."

"Still," Morgan said. "All of us know that Chessi hadn't been the most…" he trailed off, but the meaning was clear.

"The most what?" I asked, making my teammates aware of my presence. All of them looked like they'd rather be anywhere but here, but at least Derek had the decency to look away. "The most _what_?" I repeated.

"You haven't been the most stable person around lately," he finished sadly, turning away and leaving.

To be perfectly honest, I could see where he was coming from. Even if we ignored the years of secrecy and the fall apart I had when Cas became God and later died, you had to consider the fact that the past couple of weeks I was doubling two jobs – solving cases with the BAU and helping my brothers hunting.

More than once, after leaving for a couple of days I came back crying or on the verge of a panic attack, and it was up to Spencer and Dave to patch me up both mentally and physically. Even when I was with the team, it was clear to see that more often than not, my mind was elsewhere.

Especially as September 23rd came closer.

So it wasn't exactly a surprise to see the team walking on eggshells around me. I just thought we were beyond the point when they talked about me behind my back.

I sighed, ignoring Spencer's worried look as I walked towards the bullpen area and sat down by my desk, starting to catch up to the seemingly endless piles of paperwork I always had these days. It was tiring and annoying but it had to be done so I sucked it up, ignoring the looks Morgan, Prentiss and Spencer occasionally sent my way.

It was several hours later, just as I was about to take a lunch break, that I saw Hotch all but running out of his office. He looked around the bullpen for a couple of moments before his eyes locked on me, making him head my way.

"Chessi," he said, his voice tense and worried. "I'm sorry, but I need you to step away from the desk."

"What?" I asked, doing as he said. "Why?"

"Because we only have five minutes until _Internal Interrogations_ come, and everything that happens from now on might mean your job."

" _What?_ "

"Hotch, what happened?" Morgan asked, nearing us worriedly.

"Turn the TV on," Hotch ordered, and JJ quickly complied.

 _"The two men, who up until now were presumed dead, locked the doors and opened fire, leaving no survivors,"_ the reporter said. As I saw the pictures on the screen, it was suddenly harder for me to breath. _"Sam and Dean Winchester are now the subjects of a manhunt throughout the state of California."_

"You're going to be taken for questioning," Hotch said quietly. "If you'll cooperate, you might not have to be arrested this time. I'll come in as your lawyer as soon as I can and we'll sort this out."

"No," I said, my eyes still looking at the screen. "You can't be my lawyer."

"Chessi, I know it's hard but –"

"Plausible deniability, Hotch," I told him. "They're going to question me about contacting my brothers and this time is different from last time."

"What?" Garcia asked. "Why?"

I swallowed hard, a somber look settling on my face as I saw two agents approaching me from the corner of my eyes.

"SSA Diana Chess?" one of them asked.

"Yes, sir," I replied as evenly as I could.

"You're wanted for questioning in regards to the latest developments in the Winchester Brothers' case," the other said. "We would much rather it if you came of your own free will."

"Yes, sir," I repeated. "If it's okay, I'd prefer to be the one to disarm myself." He nodded curtly and I took a deep breath. "I have a gun in my belt, another strapped to my leg and a knife in my boot," I retailed as I took them out and placed them on the table before stepping back again.

"Do you have any other weapons in your possession?"

"Three more blades," I replied. "One in my desk drawer, one in my bike and another in my night shed, along with another gun."

"Are you aware of the fact that all of these weapons will be tested in relation to the Winchester Brothers' case?" the first agent asked.

"I am aware of that."

"Thank you for your cooperation," his partner told me, and I could hear the honesty in his voice. _They weren't my enemies. They were only doing their jobs. And I don't think they wanted me to be found guilty any more than I did._ "If you please follow us."

"I don't understand," Garcia said as she watched me walk away. "Why doesn't she want you to be her lawyer? Why is this different from last time?"

"Because this time, she's guilty," Hotch said, his eyes finding mine just before the elevator doors closed. "And she knows I know it."

* * *

"Have you been in contact with your brothers in the five years since you were last questioned?"

"No." _Lie._

"Have you been in contact with someone who might have been in contact with them?"

"If I have, they didn't tell me." _Lie._

"Did you know, prior to today, that your brothers have been alive?"

"I didn't." _Lie, lie, lie._

It seemed like the agent interrogating me was just as frustrated as I was. It's been hours, and we were getting nowhere, always coming back to the same basic questions. I wasn't sure if he really believed I was guilty or not but I was sure that even if he didn't, someone up the levels _did_ believe it, otherwise they wouldn't have left me here so long.

"Does the name 'Jimmy Novak' mean anything to you?"

"No." _Lie._

"Does the name 'Bobby Singer' mean anything to you?"

"Yes." The agent looked up at me with surprise. "Bobby's an old friend of my dad's, and I spent most of my teenage years living at his place."

"Have you been in contact with him lately?" the agent asked.

"Other than a period of seven years since I left home and until a couple of months after I started working for the BAU, I have always been in contact with Bobby," I replied.

"Even during the three months you were missing a couple of years ago?" he questioned. "Or the year you left the BAU?"

"Seeing as I don't remember those three months, I have no way of answering that question," I said evenly. "But yes, I have been in contact with him during the year I left."

"Do you know if he had been in contact with your brothers?"

"If he had, he didn't tell me." _Lie._

Honestly, I was grateful there wasn't a polygraph test this time. If there had been, I wasn't sure I'd pass.

"Do you have any other living relatives?"

"Not that I know of."

"Do you have any other living family friends?"

"SSA David Rossi is my Godfather and used to be a friend of my mother's," I said, "but I didn't meet him until we started working together and, even then, I didn't know about this connection for a while. My dad pretty much severed all of the connections after my mother died."

"How did she die?"

"A house fire." _Lie._

"How did your father die?"

"A car accident." _Lie._

"How did your brothers die?"

"Well, two days ago I would have said an explosion at a police station, but now…"

Well, _technically_ , that was true. That's what I would have said if someone other than my team asked how my brothers died. That I would have lied is a completely different thing.

I was torn out of my thoughts as the doors opened and a woman walked in.

"What do you think you're doing?" she asked.

"I'm sorry, but who are you?" the agent asked.

"Ashley Coulson, I'm SSA Chess's lawyer," she replied. "What do you think you're doing, questioning my client without me."

"She didn't ask or a lawyer," the agent said weakly.

"Did you read her rights?" Coulson asked.

"Well… no," the agent admitted. "She's not under arrest."

"And yet, you've been keeping her here for the past three hours, asking the exact same questions over and over again," Coulson noted. "Did she say anything that would suggest she had any knowledge of her brothers being alive?"

"Well, no, but –"

"Did you find any of the weapons in her possession related to the case?"

"No, but –"

"Did she, or did she not," Coulson went on, "cooperate with you as you asked her to?"

"She did, but –"

"So why are you keeping her locked inside an interrogation room?" Coulson questioned. "Why are you treating her like a suspect when there is nothing to suggest she is one? SSA Chess," she added, turning to me, "are any of your belongings, other than your weapons, are currently held by the leaders of this investigation?"

"Er… no, ma'am."

"Then get up," she ordered. "We're leaving."

"You can't do that!" the agent protested.

"You're the one who said she's not under arrest," Coulson told him. "Do you have any cause to arrest her?" The agent didn't say anything and Coulson smiled. "Then we're leaving. SSA Chess," she added, turning to the door.

I quickly stood up and followed her.

"What's happening?" I asked as we walked out of the station.

"That's what I was hoping you could tell me," Coulson replied. "Dave and Hotch hired me to protect you," she added. "My husband's a hunter, so I know about the world. I even met your brothers a couple of times and there's one thing I can tell you – they're not murderers."

"I know that," I said.

"Then what's going on?" Coulson asked. "If they're not the ones doing those things, who is?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "And I can't exactly find out, can I? Even if I supposedly _was_ in contact with them –"

"I know you are, continue."

"– I can't exactly call them right now," I finished. "They're gonna track my calls, at best, and have me tailed, at worst. Same goes for all of my team members."

"So give me their number," Coulson said. "Or connect me to anybody else who could answer those questions."

"I…" I hesitated. "I'm sorry, but I barely know you. I'm not going to just give you ways to incriminate me."

"I'm on your side here," Coulson said. "I know it's not easy, but I need you to trust me. It's the only way we can get any sort of information."

I took a deep breath before grabbing a piece of paper, scrawling Bobby's number on it.

"He's not gonna trust you and he's not gonna like you," I warned. "But tell him Peanut gave you the number and he'll answer all of your questions."

"Okay," Coulson nodded. "I'll come to your office in an hour to tell you what he said."

"Thanks," I nodded, starting to head back towards the BAU. "And, Coulson?"

"Yes?" She turned around.

"If I find out that you betrayed me, you're going to find out I have a lot less morals than people seem to think I do," I warned before flashing her a smile. "See you in an hour!"

That hour seemed to drag by. Every second felt like a minute and every minute felt like a month as I watched the news, looking for any sort of updates about my brothers.

Spencer sat next to me, his hand holding mine in an attempt to sooth my nerves. I knew the rest of the team were watching us, and that I was just proving their points from the argument that morning, but I couldn't care less.

Say what you want about my brothers, and there's an awful lot you can say indeed, but they're not killers. They hunt down monsters, not humans.

With a line of job like mine, I'm bound to know a psychopaths when I see one. And Sam and Dean weren't the psychopaths they were made out to be.

By the time Coulson came back, I was already half insane.

"They went to see Frank Devereaux," she said quietly enough so that even Spencer, who was barely a foot away from us, couldn't hear. "From what I figured out from Bobby, these are Leviathans pretending to be your brothers. And… they committed another murder today. A bank full of people, led them to the vault and shot until there was no one left."

"Fuck," I muttered, glancing to the sides. "What can I do to help?"

"Stay out of it," Coulson replied sharply. "I'm saying this as your lawyer. I'm sorry, but you can't help them here – not without losing your job and possibly your freedom."

"Sorry," I said, "but I was never the type to sit back and do nothing."

"Then learn to be," Coulson told me. "Diana… your brothers can handle themselves. Sure, they might have to drop off the radar for a while, but you and I both know they can get out of this mess. But unless you want to join them at the top of the FBI most wanted list, there's nothing you can do."

"Who's Frank Devereaux?" I asked instead of replying to her words, choosing to focus on the problems I knew I could solve.

"He's a bipolar with delusional ideation," Coulson replied, a small smile tugging at the edge of her lips. "But he's a genius when it comes to surveillance. He can help your boys find the sons of bitches who did this and, if it comes to it, help them hide from the Feds. Now, I doubt that you'll be called for questioning again today about the other murder," she added, raising her voice a bit, "but if you do, you call me immediately and you don't say a thing unless I'm there. Am I clear?"

"Crystal," I sighed, glancing back at the TV screen.

"Go home, Diana," Coulson sighed. "Get some sleep. I promise that if there's news I'll call you right away."

"You know, I place an awful lot of trust in you for someone I only just met," I commented.

"Please," Coulson rolled her eyes. "I told you my husband's a hunter, I know the type. You, SSA Chess, only trust ten people in the whole wide world, and none of them are me. Make sure she goes home," she told my team, who concluded of seven out of the ten people she spoke of.

"I will," Spencer said before anyone else had a chance to reply, tugging lightly at our intertwined hands and pulling me outside. "I don't think you're in a state to take Darlin' tonight so I think I'll drive you home," he said. "If that's okay?"

"It's fine," I said, entering his car with him.

The drive to my apartment went mostly in silence, but it was the comfortable kind of it rather than the tense one I was prone to with most people these days. When we reached my apartment Spencer parked his car and walked me inside, making sure I was settled before turning to leave.

"Wait," I said, and he turned to look at me questioningly. "The Leviathans know everything about me that Cas did, and I think they just proved they will do anything to hurt my brothers and me. Be careful. Tell the rest of the team to be careful. I don't…" I took a deep breath. "I already lost Daniel and Jenna because I underestimated how far people will go to get to me. I'm not ready to lose you guys, too."

"You won't," Spencer promised. "We'll be fine. I'll tell everyone to be extra careful."

"Spence?" I asked when he turned to leave again. "Can you… can you stay tonight? Not like… not in a – just that – I just…"

"Take a shower," Spencer said softly, taking his hands in mine. "I'll take one when you're done and I'll stay here tonight."

"I just need my friend," I blurted out, tears appearing in my eyes. "I just… I could really use my best friend right now."

"Take a shower," Spencer repeated, and I complied.

We shared a bed that night, both of us fully dressed. It wasn't romantic by a long shot, but we both understood the need to have another human being close by in times like these.

I could only hope that this whole mess would clear up when morning would arrive.

* * *

Things didn't clear up the next day. Or the day after that. It was five days before I could breathe again – four days until the FBI declared Sam and Dean Winchester were dead, again, and another day before Coulson received a phone call from Bobby that cleared up some things.

Unfortunately, it also brought a whole new line of questions up.

"They're alive," she told me, "and the FBI's off your back, but you still need to be careful. Bobby also said that there's something else he needed to talk to you about, and that it's about some girl named Amy that you met a couple of months ago. Hell if I know what that means, but…" she shrugged and I sighed in understanding.

Honestly, sometimes Bobby could be the most paranoid person I ever met, and I met quite a lot of paranoid folk.

A quick talk to Hotch later and I had Darlin' running and on the way to the cabin Bobby lived in since the Leviathans wrecked his home.

"Spill," I said as soon as I walked in, wasting no time on pleasantries.

"Good to see you too, Peanut," Bobby sighed. "How was your week?"

"My week went like shit," I replied. "But you already knew that. Now, what did you have to talk to me about that we couldn't do over the phone?"

Bobby sighed again, grabbing a beer. "Sam and Dean split up," he said. "Or, more accurately, Sam walked away."

"What?" I asked. "But… why? When?"

"As soon as they wrapped things up," Bobby replied. "Do you remember Amy? The kitsune the boys met a while ago?"

"Kinda hard to forget," I said. "Kitsune are about as rare as they come."

"Apparently, Dean killed her," Bobby said, resuming before I could add anything else. "He says it was because she killed people."

"But her son was sick," I said, feeling nauseated. "She only did it to save him… I've met human mothers who did worse to protect their kids. Heck, _I_ did worse to protect Jenna."

"I get that," Bobby said. "And so does Sam, but Dean doesn't. Sam said he can't hunt with him anymore, if this is his way of dealing with things."

"I feel a bit bad saying it, but I can see his point," I muttered. "Wait, but that was months ago. Why is it only coming up now?"

"Because Dean didn't tell Sam," Bobby replied. "Sam only heard about it from Dean's Leviathan doppelganger a couple of days ago."

"And everything exploded," I finished in understanding. "Fuck."

"Tell me about it." Bobby sat down on the couch, placing his beer in front of him. "So, how are you handling things on your end? Got into trouble?"

"Nearly," I replied. "Could have been a whole lot worse if I didn't have Coulson on my side."

"She sounded like a nice chick," Bobby said. "I heard good things about her man, too."

"Yeah, she told me he's a hunter," I said. "I'm thinking of keeping her as a friend. Could use another person who gets what I'm going through and has that extra X chromosome. Besides…" I trailed off, changing my mind at the last moment, but Bobby still noticed.

"Besides what?" he asked. "Dee, besides what?"

"Look at how far the Leviathans went to get Deana and Sam out of the picture," I said. "What if I'm next? What if they'll hurt my team to get to me? And, even if they won't," I added before Bobby could comment, "what about the next monster we come across? Or the next? How long will I be able to keep protecting them? Uncle Bobby, I…" I sighed. "I don't want their deaths on my consciousness."

"You won't have it," Bobby replied. "Peanut, your team'll be fine. They're not going to die on you."

"That's what I said about Daniel and Jenna," I said quietly. "Look at how that turned out."

"Dee… whatever it is you're planning to do, I can promise you it's not a good idea."

"I'm not planning to do anything," I protested.

"But you're thinking on it."

I sighed, my eyes catching the sight of Bobby's beer for a moment. I could feel the craving for a drink – or, preferably, something stronger – building up inside of me and forced myself to look away.

"So," I started. "How are things on your end? Anything interesting happened lately?"

"Nope," Bobby replied, just a bit too quickly. "Nothing at all happening here."

"Bobby," I sighed, "you do remember I'm a profiler, right? What is it? Come on," I added with a smile. "It's not something bad, is it?"

"No," Bobby agreed. "Well, I suppose not. It's just… it was pretty out of place, really."

"What is it?" I asked, my curiosity spiking.

"Well…" Bobby scratched the back of his neck, slightly uncomfortable. "Jody came in a couple of days ago to check up on me and… I may have kissed her."

I was glad at that moment that I didn't have a drink in my hand for I was sure that if I did, I would've dropped it in shock.


End file.
